Pride and Prejudice and Psyche
by wendywho
Summary: Psyche/ Cupid- Golden Ass/ Pride and Prejudice mashup, Modern- in Southwest US, M with some HMS with warnings. There are characters who say prejudiced things as part of their character but to which I disagree. There are some gay/ bisexual characters too but no changes for ODC, Jane or Bingley just so you know. PS JA's work is hers, my fanfic is mine. Don't steal. I report thieves.
1. Chapter 1

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrika.

Final tweaking is my own.

This story is long and so I'm not sure if I wore them out or if they thought the latter part was better, but so far, most of their suggestions and changes have been for the beginning parts of the story.

Psyche/ Cupid- Golden Ass/ Pride and Prejudice mashup, Modern, Mature with some HMS which will have warnings. Also, there are gay characters in here, which I love but if your beliefs are going to get in the way of reading about gay people, please be respectful and don't read. There are also characters who are prejudiced in some way. I don't agree with their prejudices, but a good story involves a variety of points of view in order to carry the story and I hope this story is at least decent.

Introduction:

This is a little JAFF taking place in my beloved home region, Southern New Mexico. I thought it might be nice to see it in the Southwest as so few P & P take place there.

There are some time jumps.

There are a few characters who are part of one or a few chapters who don't play a part in the larger story.

With each new post (early on) I will make sure to indicate the timeline and also any new characters. I hope that resolves any confusion. I don't think that adding bells and whistles such as pictures of the characters will be any less confusing, but if I get feedback indicating interest, then I will do my best to post visual aids. There are 'links' on my profile page to help with visual aids such as the NM landscape, architecture, food, farm life, etc.

Characters in intro

The Mysterious entity -White Woman/Dark Woman (supporting character, appears throughout the story)

Maeve- jolly mentor to Elizabeth Bennet. Resident Costume Designer (in a couple more chapters here and there)

Various Longbourn Theatre Company Resident Artists, Faculty and Staff:

Kent Gilbert, Artistic Director.

Prologue: Pre Production

Spring Semester of the current year, Lizzy's junior year at Longbourn State University in Dona Maria, New Mexico. In the Costume Shop, with Maeve, Lizzy's supervisor, mentor and friend:

Maeve heard the voice, uncertain who it was, except it must be the spirit of some loved one who would not quite reveal herself. Maeve had heard voices from beyond the veil and seen unearthly things since she was a child. This voice was a voice of Inspiration, whispered to her without intelligible words. It put her in mind of a classic book she'd read so long ago. Inspiration came alive with sketches and swatches, colors and hints of scenery. When Maeve shared it with her friend, Kent, he immediately grasped it and they talked and drew inspiration late into the evening. They were in agreement that they would do what it took to make their vision of Pride and Prejudice a reality on the mainstage of 'their' theatre.

The day came for the Inspiration to slowly unfold. Before leaving the shop, Maeve grabbed some sketches and left a new piece of chocolate for her Muse on the makeshift altar, a shelf above her workspace. The piece of crown molding was adorned with all manner of sparkly things and a few patinaed photographs from decades ago. Even though she was still uncertain as to the spirit's identity, she uttered soft word of acknowledgment to her Muse and left, the bell on the door tinkling behind her.

Artistic Director Kent Gilbert futilely attempted calling order to Longbourn Theatre Company's cacophonous planning meeting.

"If everyone doesn't shut up this minute I'm going to say the "M" word! " _*_ Immediate silence filled the stuffy room. Luck was more threatening to superstitious thespians than any 'realistic' fear. Leave it to the curse of The Scottish Play to make thespians quake in their boots. Well, it worked. Kent sighed and then pushed on: "As I was saying, this is a complex set, and, due to budget considerations, I suggest we scale down our fall musical. Pride and Prejudice is, after all, the original romance and has real marketing potential."

Debate ensued between champions of the perennial spring musical and the alternate, musical hating camp, until Maeve produced a rendering, a collaboration between Kent and herself (and the Muse), of people moving a stage in clockwork fashion. They wore period costumes instead of the usual blacks. "We can use the stagehands to move the stage; put them in servants clothing; it will save costs and the men in costume will give ladies in the audience more visual interest, if you know what I mean." Laughter erupted, mostly from the ladies. Maeve gave a twinkling reminder that there were no codpieces in the Regency era- only tight breeches. *

The macho Tech Manager did his best to sound like a grizzly bear when proclaiming that neither he nor his employees would wear girly clothes and Kent had better make sure this job was assigned to students. "We can work this out later, but I don't think it will be necessary for you to be in costume," Kent responded, evenly.

Everyone resumed mumbling around the table. Kent took a deep breath. "Let's take a vote. All in favor?" Hands went up overwhelmingly in favor of this proposal, leaving the small contingent of protesters to glower. The Unseen Hand had guided this vision closer toward fruition. The show would go on. After interminable negotiations, meetings, calls and more meetings throughout the spring semester, the Technical and Production Staff was decided:

Costume Design Major Elizabeth Bennet would Design Costumes. Maeve, her mentor and Resident Costume Designer- Head 'Costume Shop Babe'- would be her 'assistant'. Jane Bennet, Lizzy's sister, would be one of several Costume Shop interns, staff and students (Costume Shop Babes) who would help put together costumes.

When Lizzy was offered her first mainstage Costume Design opportunity, she was thrilled, but reluctant at its scope, especially since she'd be gone until a few days after fall semester started. The production was the first one of the fall season, and she didn't want to start out behind. Maeve convinced Lizzy that between herself and Jane, they would keep her posted, and that, knowing the other designers, they would be understanding. After all, professionals often have to go from one gig to the next, and conduct correspondence in between. Eager for the opportunity, Lizzy agreed to do it. Little did the Bennet sisters (or even Maeve) know the turn this Production would take.

*Macbeth: Thespians are superstitious about saying the name of that play within a theatre and so it is referred to as 'The Scottish Play'. If someone says the name of that tragic hero, the remedy is to run outside and turn around 3 times while cursing (saying a profanity, not the other type), then asking permission to come back in (I made this mistake once). I have heard the reason for the curse of the name has something to do with the Weird Sisters, the 3 witches in the play.

*codpieces, for those who are not part of the pervy horde or order of the cotton drawers in another universe, were coverings for bunchage used in the late middle ages, through, if I remember correctly, the Cavalier period. Here is a funny link about them. Note the date it was posted before thinking hipsters will be wearing these.

the art of manliness dot com/2011/04/01/bringing-back-the-codpiece

* * *

Lizzy Bennet: ODG

Francesca Bennet- Mother- mentioned in flashback

One shot characters:

Levi or The Tailor- a very distinct personality facilitating Lizzy's interests in more ways than one. One of my betas thought this person was too good to be true. However, I kept the person as I knew them to be, including their system for fitting. They are real, and it is true. I altered other identifying parts of this person, however. If any of you are from the theatre world and PM me with the correct identity of the person, I will give you a shout out! Please don't name the person in the comments however.

Cole- Lizzy's ex who appears in Lizzy's flashbacks.

Maya- Lizzy's partner in crime in sewing and in art

Millie Younge- a stage manager whose family owns a ranch in Chaparral NM.

Wickham- rambled into Lambton and got a job as a chef/ cook at a local restaurant.

Charlotte (Char)- mentioned in flashback

Jane- mentioned in flashback

Chapter 1: Lizzie's Summer Theatre Internship Wherein ODG Learns More Than How to Tailor Properly

May 26th of the current year, Colorado, Lambton Repertory Theatre (LRT), Intern Housing, the summer before P & P's production is underway. ODG is interning for the summer:

It was 7 pm before the first day of the Summer Season of LRT and Elizabeth sat in her cramped quarters, waiting expectantly for tomorrow to come, to finally meet the famous Master Tailor. Lizzy was one of the few who didn't join in pre production celebrations at one of the town's 2 bars. Introspective at the moment, and, with an abundance of time, doubts emerged. Usually at such a time as this she'd talk to her sister Jane. Instead she did the next best thing and wrote Jane an old fashioned letter on stationary she'd just gotten from one of the boutiques in Lambton.

 _Dear Jane,_

 _May 26th: Here I sit in the cozy room of the rickety Victorian Era boarding home that is to be mine for the summer. You wouldn't believe how chilly it can get in the canyon at night. I'm glad I brought the old leather jacket Aunt Phil insisted upon. I confess I feel a moment of doubt: is this wild and lonely canyon town really a place to further my career?_

 _No, no. That will not do. I am going to start over:_

 _Tomorrow is the day I meet the legendary Tailor, The Amazon Herself, Levi. I can't wait to see if she really can fit a person by just knowing their waist size and the color of their eyes. If it is true, what might I do to find out her secret?_

 _Well, you must agree that is a better beginning, but if I want to be fresh, I will turn in now._

 _May 28th: Jane, the silliest thing happened: I dreamed I was a punk rock chick here in Lambton and I was making all the miners put on a prom but they protested because they didn't believe in dancing. I insisted on making them dresses. This shadowy woman was the instigator of the protests, more to challenge me than for any other reason. Before I could unearth this Woman's motive, I woke up. What a weird dream._

 _But you know what happened, next? I told Maya and she ACTUALLY had the nerve to innocently ask this group of guys if they believed in dancing! I was so embarrassed but this one guy spoke up and said 'with the right inducement'. He looked at me and smiled and my stomach flipped. He was totally hot. OK. I smiled back. Happy?_

 _I know you are dying to know the rest: we arrived at the costume shop and immediately were pulled into the Master Tailor's whirlwind. The Amazon was already in a foul mood and treated everyone as if they were stupid. As well she would with an 160 IQ. The Tailor insisted that I follow precise rules for cutting, pinning and stitching the costume pieces together. I was equally terrified of making an error AND of arguing. I pulled an all nighter to put together every piece, precisely to The Tailor's expectations. I felt like I was in some kind of twisted sewing rite of passage, complete with growling but nervous stomach, bloodied pincushion fingers, body locked into a permanent hunched over position from pinning and sewing more hours than I even realized were in a day. I might have gotten a couple of hours of sleep in the green room but couldn't be sure._

 _I won't keep you in suspense about the fitting: when the magnificent lead arrived for her fitting, I was positively stunned. The Tailor's system worked, whatever it was. All we needed to alter were the costume's length in a couple of areas. The Tailor magically turned from angry and arrogant to self satisfied and proud, showing off the statistical system She'd developed based on height, weight and average measurements, offering a copy to me- ME! I can't believe how lucky I am. I asked Levi if it would be ok to use it as a template to base my sizes off of and she gave me her blessing! She said she freely shared her system anyway. Oh, and by the way, the system does NOT include eye color. That was the ONLY exaggeration. But, as I was witness, the Tailor truly did magic knowing only 2 measurements. Can you imagine how much time that is going to save us? Alright, I know you aren't as geeky about clothes as me, you just do it for spare change so I'll stop now, except to say that the Tailor is a sweetie at heart. Her horrid moods are worth it to work with this mad genius of an Amazon._

 _I'll leave off here- You'll never guess who found me at the shop this afternoon? Yes! That hot guy who said he'd dance with the right inducement! We're going to have dinner at his place. He assured me he is a perfect gentleman. I will be safe, dear Jane, I promise._

 _Love, Lizzy_

Having an extra sheet of paper, Lizzy repeated the same story of the Tailor's fitting triumph to her Aunt Phil. She then cleverly folded each letter into its own self contained envelope and posted the notes, but not before she had picked some wildflowers and pressed them into each letter. Lizzy only wished they could both be here in person to experience the shop and the canyon for themselves. She couldn't wait to hear their replies.

* * *

June 20th of the current year, Lambton

Lizzy biked in a leisurely fashion up the canyon. The reason for her foray was to consider her new acquaintance: George Wickham. On their first date, he made homemade pasta and pesto then they sat up on the veranda of his little room, watching the stars and listening to music. He made flattering comments but other than brushing her arm occasionally or staring deeply into her eyes, he didn't make a move, provoking in her a sense of expecting something that never came. The conflicting feelings were novel. Lizzy wondered if she'd really learned her lesson from Cole.

Wickham had soon charmed the entire cast and so was welcome in the Green Room. He hung out there during Lizzy's wardrobe duty. They'd visit in the off times while she waited for the cast to come back between scenes for changes and the like.

After the show they talked while she did laundry, waiting for cycles, sitting out back, watching the brook behind the theatre. She shared anecdotes about the shop's intense atmosphere and felt relieved to get it off her chest. Of course she talked to Maya, but that really wasn't the same. It was nice talking to a guy again. It certainly didn't hurt that he was frightfully handsome. He had a keen wit and she very much enjoyed chatting about plays, food, gardening, travel- anything, really.

It was fun, this flirtation (possibly more?) with such a man. It had been awhile since her last boyfriend. But, no, Wickham already was a little too much like Cole in looks and manner, causing a shiver up her spine. Lizzy resolved not to think again on back to the more pleasant subject, Lizzy enjoyed Wickham's tales of cross country culinary adventures -a veritable Anthony Bourdain.

Eventually Wickham traced his story back to a couple of years ago, when he partedways with old family friends. As he spoke of that time, his normally amiable features transformed into something feral. He proceeded to share lurid details about how he was all alone, orphaned as a child and how his surrogate family allowed a cruel aunt to take him away. As a young adult, he was reunited with this family who seemed to be happy about the renewed acquaintance and spent many meaningful occasions together. That was until he became ill and his surrogate, now orphaned, 'brothers' abandoned him.

Lizzy tried to find out details such as where this was, what his illness was, but Wickham changed the subject, a pained look crossing his face. She let the matter drop and settled for taking his hand. They sat in this attitude until Lizzy was interrupted by the buzzing of the washer. By the time she came back, Wickham had left a note saying he didn't feel well and had turned in. She was disappointed but figured, just like her, he had painful times in his past, better left unsaid.

With stationary in hand, sitting next to the stream, Lizzy jotted down her thoughts about Wickham to Jane and Aunt Phil. She also wrote about the little town she'd grown to love. For nearly a month, she'd immersed herself in everything evoking Lambton- the floral sweetness of violet candy from Irises… antique treasures discovered during rambles about town like at that hole in the wall bookstore behind the theatre… her daily mocha- fortification before grueling hours of sewing, cutting, wardrobe duty, and more sewing. Afterhours were free to spend in typical Thespian fashion, carousing, doing extra projects or paying jobs. She reveled in the surroundings, hiking up the gorge as much as possible, finding places from the old mining days where odd bits of old metal and glass can be unearthed. An old cookie tin held the stash. She really had no idea what she'd do with them, but they certainly were cool. She picked out some random bits to send to Aunt Phil, who would also enjoy them.

* * *

During the ensuing days:

Lizzy didn't have much time to talk to Wickham, as production ramped up for their next opening. Lizzy was very much looking forward to seeing him opening night. She had been more than a little disappointed when he showed up drunk and possibly high, with pupils the size of pinpricks despite the lateness of the hour and dimness of the lights. She tolerated his company, and found his arm brushing her breast one too many times to be inadvertent. Then, Wickham insisted on dancing a slow one with her and kissed her in a manner that left a great deal wanting from her imaginations of his first kiss.

When he became more forward on the dance floor, Lizzy excused herself went to stand with The Tailor, who engaged her in conversation about career plans and other randomness such as The Tailor's love of 20's gay culture. They bonded about their mutual fascination with Gertrude Stein and Alice B Tolklas. This got Lizzys' mind off of the party for awhile. She couldn't look at Wickham yet. It was too embarrassing. Unfortunately, Wickham's behavior called too much attention to himself as he proceeded to make his rounds with a half dozen other thespians (male and female).

Lizzy was astonished at how his attentions alternated so rapidly and felt it keenly. "Seen enough?" The Tailor asked and she nodded. The Tailor walked her to the boarding home and mentioned something curious: "Just because I'm a genius about Tailoring- and usually love- doesn't mean I don't get taken in too. You're nice and I didn't want you to make the same mistake I did." Lizzy felt a little guilty that she'd joked so much with Wickham about her experiences with The Tailor. Levi was turning out to be a better friend than Wickham, it would seem.

After that night Lizzy maintained a polite distance from Wickham, keeping her smiles up, that twang of sympathy and questions pulling at her heart, but she remained careful not to be alone with him. Lizzy both hoped, and feared, his overtures would inevitably turn to an attempt to explain that night. Really, there was no adequate explanation for the lightning shift in his attentions that could endear her to him in the same way. Yes, he shared more in common with her ex than his handsome features.

Maya's suspicions about her friend's love interest had been aroused and her questions, persistent. Lizzy gave noncommittal replies until one day something gave. "Wickham reminds me of Cole, that's all." Lizzy left the shop, claiming a need to go to the dressing rooms. Lizzy had met Maya after Cole, anyway, and had always tried to avoid that dreaded subject with new friends. Maya only knew a little of Cole, more from lack of discussion than any words about the man. The usually gregarious and forthcoming Lizzy showed a very different side to Maya during those times. Maya knew that Cole must have hurt Lizzy very deeply. Maya resolved to help her friend, even though Lizzy kept this pain close to her chest. Lizzy was grateful for Maya's eagerness to support her lovelife, but she just couldn't bring herself to share the history.

It was times like this that Lizzy missed her sister, Jane who had knew it, who experienced it with her. Lizzy had still not heard from Jane except for a small care package within school project correspondence. She hoped this meant her sister was busy back home, dating, or at least consumed with summer school. They certainly would have a lot to catch up on when Lizzy returned home in the fall.

Her only other correspondent, Aunt Phil, never wrote any words of advice other than sewing or clothing euphemisms. They were kindly meant but baffling all the same.

Without the benefit of Jane's advice, Lizzy decided to listen to her own inner voice.

* * *

June 26 -27th or some other Monday in Lambton (current year). ODG is still interning. Let's check in on her, shall we?

Unbeknownst to Lizzy, Wickham was often in the company of Maya's new interest, a charming waiter with a glorious crown of dreadlocks. Maya had lunch daily at the Inn, just to flirt with the Hippie. She was thrilled when he finally asked her out and suggested Wickham come along. Having mulled over Wickham's winning behavior all her times at the inn, Maya assumed that there must be some misunderstanding about it all. So, she determined that Lizzy could benefit from hearing him out, if he chose to discuss things, or at least to enjoy a night under the stars with the excellent conversationalist. She was sure Lizzy would be pleasantly surprised.

Lizzy and Maya had gone on their double date on Sunday, 'black Monday eve', as they'd called it. Maya begged Lizzy to join her, along with a new Hippie friend of hers for a picnic. When Lizzy got in the truck, she was disappointed to see that Wickham joined them. Maya explained that she thought it would be a nice double date. Lizzy flashed a look at Maya but didn't say anything- Maya's own eyes pled to go along with things. Grudgingly, Lizzy nodded her head in acknowledgment.

If Maya was so up on this, maybe she could give him a chance. Maybe Wickham would explain what happened opening night. She doubted it would change her now distant feeling, but she was still enough taken by his ineffable charm that Lizzy hoped, rather than expected, to be surprised.

They took a pickup to the edge of town, on a residential road overlooking the main street. It had started out well enough as they had a picnic on the tailgate with hotdogs and beer, enjoying a playlist of old Lilith Fair artists, by suggestion of Lizzie.

The date promptly went south after they'd paired off- Maya and her Hippie took a walk to a copse a little way off the road. Meanwhile, Lizzy's date, Wickham, elected to smoke copious quantities of weed. As soon as she'd seen him light up, Lizzy exited the truck and lay in the tailgate looking at the stars, trying to avoid a contact high. Wickham immediately took liberties when he got out of the cab, his warm palm 'accidentally' finding her thigh as he fumblingly crawled into the old pickup's tailgate.

She politely escaped as quickly as she could, rolling away and grabbing her tote from inside the truck, making her excuses and skip walking down the hill. Wickham just sat on the tailgate, staring dazedly after her. It was far from traumatizing but Lizzy couldn't yet laugh at the waste of an evening. She walked home without seeing what her friend was up to. Maya could figure it out.

The next day a glowing Maya simultaneously laughed at Lizzy's predicament while chirruping sympathies about the state of her love life. Maya couldn't help it that she'd gotten 'the good date'. Instead of further confiding in Maya, Lizzy insisted her friend 'owed' a favor. She roped Maya into getting a 2nd bike and they traveled up the ravine at an ungodly hour of the morning as far as Maya was concerned.

Lizzy carried thermos of her favorite mocha, a bag of trail mix, and a bottle of water. They rode up the gorge to a favorite little gurgling bit of spring. Surprised at finding fruit so early in the season, the friends plucked a few tart yet succulent wild raspberries found in this part of the canyon. "Black Monday! "* Lizzy cried. They found other botanical treasures and broke the law, weaving and donning crowns of columbine The offense, picking a dozen of the state flower, they rationalized, was nothing to other illegalities most of Lambton's population got up to daily, as evidenced by her date last night.

Maya attempted another apology to her friend but was cut short. Lizzy had seen enough of the men in Lambton to know none of them would even suffice for a summer fling. "You're quite resigned to the fact. Surely not all of them get high. Sometimes people make mistakes, too." Maya looked intently at her friend.

Lizzy answered, "I don't think I can deal with even a charming guy like Wickham's mistakes because I'm still too fragile." She decided that her friend, for all her fumbling attempts at help, deserved the truth. Lizzy concentrated on a twig, recalling, "Cole and I met 2 years ago. Tall, long hair and a charming smile like Wickham. He calmed my nerves when I had to go into the rafters in lighting class. It was love at first sight. I obsessed over him at his Don Giovanni practices and he made breathless recitations of the reasons he loved me. We planned to intern at the _ the next summer and move to New York when we graduated. I was going to move up the ranks in the garment industry while he worked on his singing aspirations. Mom even approved of him and my plan, which was huge. And then Everything Changed." The twig snapped- she'd forgotten it was even in her hands.

Maya had been working on another garland and determined this to be an appropriate moment to adorn her tearful friend. She moved behind and started braiding Lizzy's hair, which encouraged more recollections: "Just before a mini break, about 18 months ago, Cole's attention became erratic; he strung me along while cheating on me with an airheaded soprano. Of course I had no clue why he became distant. When I learned the truth on the first day back to school, I told him off in front of the whole production- at dress rehearsal no less. Of course that finalized the breakup. Not having his reassurance in lighting class made me get panic attacks in the rafters and I didn't know how I'd get through it. It turns out I didn't have to worry."

"That was when Jane had her accident and I took incompletes at school to be home, helping her. I almost killed both of us a time or two. She was zonked on pain meds and was practically a dead weight. When I had to help her out of bed, she'd fall on me and we'd hit the wall or floor and then I'd have to start all over again. Thank g-d the wheelchair came. Even then I had a hell of a time getting her from it to the bed or the bathroom. If it wasn't that, I was trying to finish up my incompletes before school started again. It's a wonder I even thought of Cole at all. _"_ Lizzy shook her head, pausing. When she began again, her tone changed.

"Of course, Mama mentioned him often, and badgered me about what I was going to do with my career plans now that I'd driven him away. All our lives she was on about either farming or marrying, like we lived 100 years ago. There was so much pressure that summer. I was the only one taking care of Jane and, still, Mama was on my case about what I was going to do next semester, how I didn't belong with artists, and that art had no future anyway." Lizzy snorted, "Like farming is so much more certain of a career anyway. I relied on Mama's approval to finance my way through school, and she made us miserable if she was miserable."

"Aunt Phil and Tia Lena suggested that I form a business plan and sell my own products- they would always make off-hand suggestions when I made things for myself or the family which I didn't take seriously at the time. I still wasn't too sold on the idea myself, but at some point I realized I wanted this thing. They helped me form a business plan and, now, I have a Plan B. Mom still thinks it's a stupid idea to run a store but she keeps her mouth shut to keep peace with my aunts and to keep me sewing for her projects. I don't care if she approves. I feel better about my future with no guys involved. I don't want to get distracted with some guy from somewhere with his own dreams and goals. It didn't work the first time. And now that someone reminds me of *him*?" Lizzy shook her head. "But look where we are now- Jane is fine on her own again and here I am, on track, learning from The Tailor this summer, my Plan B. We made it." Maya didn't ask further. Anyway, she'd finished Lizzy's braid and the canyon was beginning to become chilly, so they wended their way back down into their tiny corner of civilization.

Upon returning to Lambton, Lizzy carefully tucked one of the garlands into some spare muslin, in between an old copy of The Sound and The Fury, and posted it along with a letter she'd written to Jane detailing the awful date and the next day's canyon ride. Just the other day, Jane had included a bag of pecans in the package of swatches and notes Maeve sent, but still Jane had sent no reply or word of her own activities at home. If it were anyone else, Lizzy would feel ill used at this point, but she was determined to continue to think the best of her sister.

And anyway, Aunt Phil had just sent a care package- a vintage Pendleton shirt she thought would warm Lizzy in the cold mornings. Lizzy thought it was perfect for the look she had perfected during her stay in the Canyon. She would wear that old woolen plaid shirt with her vintage Doc Martens and the assortment of distressed jeans or flowing dresses, listen to her playlist and feel like she should be at the Lillith Fair.*

After the disastrous date, Lizzy saw little of Wickham. When she did, Lizzy offered her friendship and tried to engage him in conversation like the first days they'd gotten acquainted. He always seemed to find someone else who needed his attention and made polite excuses.

Lizzy didn't bother writing any more about Wickham to her sister. Jane would hear it all soon enough. Instead, she wrote to Aunt Phil wondering how a person can seem to be a friend, only to be so changeable. She didn't want to admit to her Aunt – or herself- that the man reminded her far too much of all that was left unsaid between herself and Cole. Her Aunt just sent another care package in reply: a package of dead stock bandanas she thought useful. Knowing Aunt Phil, Lizzy imagined that the care package was meant to dry her tears. Aunt Phil was rarely direct, instead conveying her feelings through odd gifts.

*Black Monday- the day that Theatres are closed or 'Black' as in only 1 light being on in the whole place, other than that it is 'black'

* The Lillith Fair was a festival in the 90s of women performers, started, I believe by Sarah McLaughlan back when she was still considered alternative and not mainstream. It featured a variety of performers from McLaughlan herself, toTracy Chapman, India Irie, Luscious Jackson, No Doubt, and I can't even begin to list who else.

* * *

Chapter 2: I Had A Vision

August 1st ,before Senior Year, Lambton- ODG is still enjoying her summer:

One serendipitous afternoon, the cold thin Colorado air gave new perspective after precarious moments in a Jeep situated too intimately near the edge of a steep mountain. Lizzy and its other occupants were on the precipice of careening down the mountain to be stranded, hurt or dead, in the middle of nowhere. Maya's Hippie gingerly quit his shotgun seat and began forcing rocks and branches under the back wheels. The Amazon cautiously followed and helped. Combined efforts enabled the vehicle to gain enough traction to move and the group continued up the mountain to its pinnacle.

When she, Maya, her Hippie, and the Tailor stood at the peak, cathartic tears poured down Lizzy's face, mountain winds carrying them far away. Adrenaline caused a rush of emotion in recollection of everything that had happened before- Jane, 'missed' chances with dreams and love. If Lizzy could face the highest heights and hard labor, maybe she was also strong enough to overcome other obstacles. The adrenaline didn't give any wisdom for how this was to occur, only the sense that her dreams were indeed possible. She had to build on this momentum artistically. As if on cue…"Hey do you guys hear that music?" Lizzy asked the rest of the group.

Maya's Hippie was breathless, "Those bells? That's crazy. It must be Yeti or something."

The Tailor snorted, "Yeti aren't up here. Besides they don't play bells. Maybe it's the pioneer ghosts." It was obvious by her sarcasm that The Tailor was joking.

Elizabeth turned her head and cocked her ears, searching, "It's not bells, it's some kind of period instrument. It's so beautiful."

Maya asked "What would yeti or pioneers be doing with period instruments? It's clearly faeries. I brought my crystal just in case. See?" Maya brought out a huge piece of glass. Her friends just looked at each other and laughed. They didn't even try to explain about the huge glass shard. Typical Maya.

Maya's Hippie peered into the distance and seemed to discern something, murmuring "Sounds like a spirit…. The Dark Woman." Just then the music faded away.

Pictures were taken and the exhilarating moment was captured of Lizzy at her pinnacle in a pristine photo- her hair whipping in the biting wind as she stood on the rocky peak overlooking a panoramic view, extending, it seemed, into infinity- an apt metaphor. If one looked closely, orbs could be seen floating all around her, but perhaps it was a trick of the camera.

The group agreed it was getting too cold so they jumped back in the Jeep, their destination below being hot chocolate. The mystery music was a topic of lively conversation at Mountain Man Java, but soon after the subject faded away, much like the music had. The change in elevation was more than just physical, as they descended in the jeep, Lizzy's concerns returned to the work waiting for her in her room. The strange experience remained in the corner of her mind, along with that rekindled strength of her will to ascend. This left no more time to wonder about mysteries of guys like Wickham and Cole, who, in the end, were just a distraction.

It was a good thing Lizzy had new found energy: Waiting on her bed was a new packet of materials for the show she was designing when she got to school. Lizzy ordered some take out and worked late into the night, exasperated that a certain William Darcy, Scenic Artist, was so fussy and insistent upon his scheme for the period and colors. She had to tweak all of her costumes and hoped she could send the revised designs back by Friday when the last mail went out.

Lizzy reminded herself this time Jane had baked a bunch of cookies which would get her through her work. She wrote thanking Jane for the cookies and described the mountaintop experience. She joked to her sister about the time that Jane had, in her stupor on pain medications, laughed about a fairy woman and bells, and wondered if she too was now addled. Lizzy and Jane shared hints of humor about their dark days now and she hoped the lately silent sister would find this story amusing. Finishing, she enclosed the letter in the packets for school. Lizzy wrote a separate letter, repeating many of the stories to Aunt Phil, taking extra time to complain about Mr. Fancy Pants as she termed Darcy. At least Aunt Phil had been sympathetic in her last letter, and hadn't even used one euphemism.

* * *

I'm Gonna Go In Style

Subsequent Lambton days were consumed with finishing the 3rd show's designs when Lizzy wasn't working wardrobe to the other 2 shows. Lizzy constantly checked and rechecked between the summer work and her school work, afraid that she'd send the wrong packet back to that particular William Darcy, G-ds Forbid!

When Lizzy decided to bring her school work into the theatre to work on it at lunch, the Tailor gave her the eagle eye and told her not to do 'outside' work during shop hours. Embarrassed, Lizzy stuffed the sketches and swatches back into the envelope and into her cubby.

Maya buzzed about doing whatever it was Maya did in the shop while keeping her Hippie company in her off time. When Maya asked about another double date- this time with a new- sober- friend of her Hippie, Lizzy told her friend she no longer had time for thinking about guys. Knowing that her friend preferred her silence on such matters, Maya let the matter rest.

After work, Lizzy took her sketches to the inn, hoping to eat dinner and avail herself of the owner's satellite internet connection. One of the few in town. She was disappointed when The Tailor followed her and laughed at the coincidence that the canyon was in for a storm, so the satellite wouldn't have even been functional. Lizzy had considered politely begging off company when the Amazon asked about the sketches. She proceeded to expound upon the stays and underpinnings used of the era, then cataloged various fabrics and the evolution of the style, noting the differences between Lizzy's sketches and notes sent by William Darcy.

The Tailor didn't hesitate to also expound upon the merits of Lizzy's nemesis and found his ideas quite refreshing, although quickly reassuring Lizzy that her own were also more than tolerable. From anyone else, this would have been offensive, but from the Amazonian genius, it was a compliment of the highest order. But of course Lizzy's nemesis outshone her- The Tailor knew him and considered him a visionary. Apparently he was also one of the very few guys who the usually same- sex preferring Tailor would consider if Darcy weren't so fastidious. Who was this man that made Amazonian geniuses practically salivate at his feet?

Even in relaxation, The Tailor was a task mistress and soon had Lizzy buzzing away completing the notes. When they finished, the two had all but shut the inn down. Wickham lingered for the first couple hours, bringing over snacks he made them 'on the house'. He sat and told them funny stories about patrons when Lizzy and the Tailor had taken a break to eat some freshly baked bread he'd brought out. But that was already long ago. The keys had been left in the door and they'd finally emptied the pot of coffee left by the owners. In Her genteel fashion, The Tailor walked her friend home, yet again.

This time when she sent the packet back, Lizzy didn't include anything for Jane. She supposed she'd see her soon enough, and this time, she was just too busy. Surely Jane was too busy herself, and would understand. She'd better. Lizzy declared to Aunt Phil that she wasn't at all upset that Jane hadn't written much, a she supposed there was a good reason.

Aunt Phil's consistent letters were only encouraging and generally contained something in the way of a cool care package. Lizzy decided to be extra generous in this, possibly last, response, and sent back to Aunt Phil some carefully wrapped tokens of her finds, including an intact blue medicine bottle with a desiccated cork stopper, a tiny piece of amethyst and a colorful feather.

Soon enough, the season was winding down and goodbyes started. The Tailor insisted upon taking 'her costume girls' to dinner at the Inn the night before her departure. They sat, enjoying the wholesome locally sourced meal while listening to a live blues performer. The evening would have been complete if it had finished there, but Lizzy noticed Wickham come out from the back where he was cooking and steal kisses from a woman who sat in the corner.

Millie Younge, Stage Manager, was a theatre student from UTEP, an oddity with a mullet/mohawk, perpetual sleeveless tee shirt, and taped up combat boots. They looked on as Millie and Wickham sloppily made out as if no one was watching. The two were oblivious that they were even in public, their hands grasping very private areas as breaths hitched. It was all so surprising- the display and Millie. She'd never even seen Millie outside the theatre booth. When did this happen? Lizzy, not for the first time, supposed the ways of love were mysterious. She amused herself thinking they were just the type of couple to be photographed on one of the quirky fashion blogs she followed. It felt good that she was so detached to be able to laugh at the oddity of it all.

The Tailor caught her eye and gave a look that meant She, too, had seen everything. Maya shot her an inquiring gaze, relieved when Lizzy commented that she found no objection to their coupling- she'd never felt anything like love for him. Lizzy's intense behavior earlier was enough cause for her friend to wonder if she had deeper feelings for Wickham.

Days later, Maya's concerns were put to rest in the strangest way. Lizzy came in and nonchalantly announced "Well, you don't have to worry about packing your tiny car with my stuff. My things will be traveling in Wickham's U-Haul. He's moving to Millie's ranch in Mesquite."

Maya at first looked at her unbelieving. Lizzy persisted: "Wickham kindly offered to take my things back home with little trouble to me, other than bribing my brother Lydon to retrieve the bags when they get to town."

Maya wondered "Is it wise to trust him with your things?"

Lizzy looked a little guilty: "I was nosy and asked around and learned, despite his oddities, Wickham's behavior has been impeccable- bills paid, even was a generous tipper at the bars and that he had seemed to come in to some generous funds by way of the Inn job. How he had managed to do that I don't know"

From what her Hippie said about Wickham's extracurricular -dealings- Maya could imagine- but it was benign enough and, after all, second hand information, so she merely raised an eyebrow. Lizzy was naive in these areas, and Maya didn't want to worry her about information that could, after all, be in error.

Lizzy looked at her but Maya waved on for her friend to continue: "I don't see any fault other than his propensity to be quite -um- amorous. Besides, once I retrieve my things, I figure my dealings with Wickham will be little to nonexistent. The man is far too enigmatic for my taste," she confided. Maya drily replied that Wickham wasn't the only one who could be enigmatic. Lizzy just smirked.

* * *

well, here are the first couple or so chapters. please review and if anyone else out there is interested in continuing to beta, let me know, esp if you are conversant in Spanglish! 3 W


	2. Chapter 2

Charles Bingley- you will notice that there are 2 mentions of his history and indication that maybe he is not as wealthy as his canon character- all will be explained, so bear with me and feel free to ask questions.

William Darcy

Mercedes Lucas- mentioned a couple of times in the story- Francesca Bennet's frenemy and Char's mom, On Longbourn Theatre Company's board.

Dr Donald Lucas- mentioned a couple of times in the story- Tenured Longbourn State University Professor

Jane Bennet

Chapter 3: In want of a Muse

Late Summer, Current Year, Dona Maria, New Mexico: While ODG is interning in Colorado, her sister is busy avoiding a certain gentleman.

Researching the place that would be his home during production, Charles Bingley found images of desert brush and purple mountains. These were slightly different than the familiar, cosmopolitan, northern New Mexico he knew. In southern NM, small, worn, old shoeboxes of towns had names like Deming and Hatch, There was remoteness, characteristic of quirky indie movie towns, unchanged for generations.

It was his dear friend whom he happened to owe thanks to for this adventure. William Darcy, well known and critically acclaimed Visionary and Scenic Artist accepted an offer as Scenic Artist at Longbourn Theatre Company. He'd only done so contingent upon Longbourn offering Bingley to be the show's Set Designer and Charles was happy to take the job. With a resolve to fit his studio needs, Darcy talked Bingley into combining their housing stipends to lease more commodious lodgings than the usual apartments*. For himself, money was no object and he planned on paying the balance anyway. Bingley couldn't argue with the plan, Darcy insisted. They approached Theater Board Member Mercedes Lucas with their request. Mercedes's connections were instrumental in Bingley's acquisition of a grand house on part of the old Netherfield farm acreage.

Netherfield Farm had been divided into 'horsey' estates and the Lucases themselves owned some acreage bordering Bingley's leased property, where their daughter lived. The estates were plotted in the typical irregularly meandering Rio Grande fashion. The southwest plot that Charles and Darcy leased was resplendent with a small grove of Cottonwood, beyond which flowed the Rio Grande.

The ranch style home was a recently built rambling 2 story brick with a tin roof. Comfortable, yet well appointed, the home had state of the art kitchen, territorial built-ins, and Saltillo tile floors. It came furnished in an eclectic territorial style complete with a multitude of rooms fitting a variety of uses, including an upstairs veranda and ground level wraparound porch. The front was xeriscaped from existing and local plants to create a textured and colorful desert paradise.

Bingley was the first to arrive and settle into his new place one Indian summer evening, unpacking his bags. Mercedes had thoughtfully brought a welcome basket of wine, cheese, empanadas, tamales, tortillas, jams, honey, chile, pecans, grassfed beef, and other local goods. Charles put together a plate and opened his laptop to do a little homework on the cast and crew. Having set about researching each name, Charles was most diverted at the unexpected treasure he unearthed. Now that the muse was staring him in the face, Charles realized how desperately he'd been starving for new artistic vision.

*Theatres often house guest artists in pre arranged housing, whether dorm rooms, houses, apartments, or hotel rooms. Of course the accommodations are dependent on the Theatre's budget and the guest's importance. This arrangement is also the case for interns. In my time, I stayed in an attic bedroom that was invaded by bats, a highrise apartment (my only experience of the kind), a quaint old fashioned (possibly haunted) dormitory, what had once been an old bordello (fun, tacky and supposedly haunted), and the worst- an old boy scout camp in a swamp in the middle of a cornfield – complete with outdoor showers (I hated that summer gig).

www dot classicnmhomes dot com/

here is a site that shows Southern NM homes w/ xeriscaping. I didn't want to intrude on my family's neighbors to take pictures of examples on old farm property but it is similar, only greener with old trees around and fields interspersed instead of all desert.

* * *

Chapter 4: Meeting the Muse

Charles read her CV and easily found her featured as a fair queen and rodeo queen in a secession of photos on old sites. On one old County Fair video, Jane was performing at some event or other a couple of years ago. The southwest queen's jean clad hips were encircled by the biggest silver concho belt Charles had ever seen. Legs went on for days; her graceful arms were adorned with sizable traditional turquoise bracelets. The Nordic beauty's long hair swayed in time with her hips to the music she made, singing while playing on the guitar a rendition of Misguided Angel. The name was vaguely familiar- Jane…. Bennet? That distant pleasant memory of her was certainly the cause of his primal reaction, but when, where, had they met?

He immediately sent a friend request. Days passed in a whirlwind as Charles spent time in pre production mode at the University. She was always at the back of his mind, a wisp in the corner of his eye when he turned his head. Disappointment grew every day she didn't answer his request and every time she eluded him at the theatre.

Maeve teased him about skulking around the outside of the shop doors too many times to count, and she maddeningly refused to provide him with a certain student employee's schedule. He continued to skulk about. Maeve did her level best in talking up this young man to her employee. Scheduling her at opportune times wasn't beneath her, either.

Finally persistence paid off one day at the start of Fall Semester, when, opening the Costume Shop door, Charles was promptly rewarded with the site of a fine posterior greeting him. A well formed blonde was hunched over, picking up pins from the floor. He said nothing, observing what a magnificent body can do to a pair of patched up jeans. Before Charles could will himself to speak, the subject had turned around, hand on her hip, head cocked. In mute question, she cleared her throat. He shook his head to clear out the cobweb fantasies and managed: "Ummmm, hello, aren't you Jane Bennet?"

The Angel's eyebrows quirked."Maybe."

"Well, nice to finally meet you in person," he took her hand and pumped it with enthusiasm."I'm Charles Bingley. Did you see my friend request?" Since when did he have a soprano voice?

Maddeningly, she pulled away quickly and resumed her work so all he could see was her curtain of hair draped where she was bending over a box, "So, Mr. Bingley, to what do I owe the honor of being singled out?"

He couldn't keep from staring and realized he hadn't answered her when she looked up, expectantly. "I always research people I'll be working with to know their work. I was quite taken by your Fair Queen performance and one thing led to another, you know…."

"Well aren't you charming?" Her tone said something different.

He became fidgety. "If you find me charming does that mean you will finally friend me?"

"I suppose." She remained intent at her work. "Is that what you came for, or did you have actual Theatre business?"

"I heard that Lizzy sent swatches for me. Do you know where they are, so that I can get them today?" He became aware of his foot tapping only when she turned and looked down pointedly.

"Certainly." Jane handed Charles a packet. He took it, inspecting it while lingering, hoping it would offer him further reason to stay in the shop. Jane observed Charles in detail. His blonde curls fell forward artfully. His black jeans fit very well indeed and crisp button down shirt had to be custom made, azure like his eyes. The tailored vest was designer vintage which went nicely with well worn Rocketbuster boots*. A questioning expression flashed across her face.

Stuttering at first, he asked"Can I take you to coffee?"

"I was just going to class…."She remained intent on finishing her project, avoiding eye contact, and when he caught her eye, she blushed.

"Well, how about dinner tonight? I'd love to go somewhere that does good Southern New Mexican food. I'd love for you to show me your favorite hole in the wall."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes at his statement. "If you're man enough to handle the heat, I suggest my favorite, Rancho Bonito. On two conditions: promise to be a perfect gentleman and buy me a Margarita."

"I'm very much looking forward to it." He bowed and kissed her hand, which remained limply in Charles's sure grip as his lips brushed her knuckles for an exquisite eternity. Then, he turned and strode out the door.

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Jane gathered her things and headed to class. Her distraction was readily apparent as she sat down. "Jane! What happened?"Charlotte asked.

Jane was quiet for too long as far as her friend was concerned. Finally she spoke in a foreign voice. "Charlotte, do you think I'm safe having dinner with Charles Bingley?"

"That cute blonde artist from the newest production who tried to friend you?" Charlotte was now slightly bouncing in her chair.

Jane looked around to see if her friend was attracting attention and lowered her voice."The very one."

"If your moonstruck expression is any indication, no! I knew it was only a matter of time before you succumbed to his temptation. Hell, if it had been me, I'd have friended him right away. Let the sexting begin!"Her friend and classmate held her arm up in a salute.

Jane's face grew redder, the flush blooming down her body. "I knew I couldn't keep avoiding him. When he finally cornered me in the shop, Charles said he was a fan of my embarrassing fair performance. It kindof freaked me out but I couldn't resist… Especially with Maeve egging me on ever since he wandered into the shop the first time. He's certainly got her approval, and she knows him through a mutual friend. She told me to go for it. What if he's just the same old guy?" She shuddered.

Her friend shook her head, "Jane, you don't have to keep all men at arm's length. You know, if killing people with kindness were an art, you'd be a black belt."

"I have no idea what you mean, I certainly have no admirers," Jane responded, arms crossed protectively in front of herself.

"Yes, yes, you are completely oblivious to how your myriad potential suitors fancy themselves in love with you. But, dearest, after being let down, I understand how you don't believe any man capable of appreciating everything about you. And I do mean everything. A handsome, rather well known, talented man has sought you out, and he didn't run out of the building when he met you in person. Believe it or not, I think he just MAY have a crush on you." Charlotte pressed.

Jane's shoulders slumped."Yes, I admit that he must like me a little. It's quite vexing."

"What torture to be asked out by such a hottie, and one who's done his homework about you- it's so CUTE that he watched your videos! Mom knew something was up when she dropped off the gift basket; the way he obviously showed interest in the Costumers. Not to mention the way he's been loitering around the shop for weeks. He clearly has a clue that you're worth the effort, and he is making it! I have a feeling he's a keeper." Charlotte practically sang the last sentence.

"Char, I was planning on just going out- not marrying him. We've only met."Jane responded.

"Uh huh! Now who's the one suggesting marriage? I could analyze that but I won't," Charlotte sniffed. "If I were you, with a luscious man like that, I'd at least make out with him! And if he offered, who am I to turn down a hot piece of man candy!?"

"Charlotte!"The two giggled. Jane knew why her friend was so encouraging. Since the accident she was changed. Her figure was more generous but her friend insisted it still looked like it came straight out of a Botticelli*. After she needed reconstructive surgery, Charlotte swore her face bore nearly indistinguishable changes. The leg injuries restricted Jane from lengthy exercise such as her beloved riding, or even walking from one end of campus to the other. More damage was done from her mother's ongoing comments about how Jane was no longer the beauty in the family, how tragic that her face and body had been deformed, how sorry she was that poor Jane had to have a new career since she was too disabled to inherit The Farm. This only served to compound Jane's self consciousness and the pain inflicted when her boyfriend, a semi professional bronc rider, just stopped calling after he heard she was in an accident. She cried on Charlotte and Elizabeth's shoulders for weeks on end. Char and Lizzy were forever cheering her on to ignore her mother and live her life again. So, to Charlotte, this was a perfect opportunity.

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Charles messaged Jane a few days prior. Charlotte urged her friend to google Bingley. It was a cursory search, but they discovered Charles's father's Real Estate development empire, Charles's art, and Jane also found out his sister Caroline's work. After he left more charming messages, Charlotte persisted with her arguments that Jane should give him a chance.

Jane wished she had more advice. Of course Lizzy had been silent on the subject: only because she was nearly unreachable in Lambton, a place that had not yet heard of WiFi and had a dearth of DSL. Forget cell connections in that rocky canyon- not that there had been much time for Lizzy to talk anyway. Soon enough Lizzy would be back and they would catch up.

For now, Charlotte was here. In need of more support, after class, Jane went to Charlotte's to get ready for the date instead of going home. Nervous enough, Jane needed no help from her high strung mother. If Fran Bennet knew she was about to go to dinner with the talented, eligible Mr Bingley, Francesca would probably do something. Two words expressed Jane's thought on this: NO. WAY.

Ever prepared, Jane kept a change of clothes in her vehicle, never knowing when she'd need to crash after all-nighter. Jane and Char thus cobbled together the date ensemble from her and Charlotte's things. Jane had a long, silver Celtic knot pendant and an ethereal blue shirt dress on hand. She borrowed knee length boots and a blazer shot through with silver thread; Charlotte had convinced Jane to dress up a little. While the two had completely different looks and contrasting builds, their similarities of height and measurements conveniently enabled some sharing of clothes.

Jane had just finished dressing and was coming out to show her friend the result. She happened up on her friend who had her laptop open and was intently studying something. Looking more closely, Jane saw several images by the same artist interspersed on the search page with articles. Charles Bingley was the name attached both to the art and to the affairs. Her stomach dropped. She gasped. Charlotte gave her a stern talking to, first about sneaking up on a person and then about making assumptions. Putting every psych tool she had into the pep talk of her life (possibly even trying hypnosis, but who was counting?), Char convinced her friend to honor the date and ask him about his history.

She made a point that the initial search they'd made had not given any indication of current affairs. Charlotte confessed she had just wanted to do more digging and it took a bit of effort to find this dirt on Charles. All of the nudes were over a year old and his recent work was mostly theatrical. Jane gathered her wits and proceeded to what had to be a futile date. She was only humoring Char, wasn't she? Did she really believe the man's past was in his past? Or, if she went digging more, what else would she find?

*this will give you a slight idea of the look.

cowboylifestylenetwork dot com/2013-state-rodeo-queen/

*Navajo made- made by Native American Navajo Artists, not junk from a developing country sold at a hipster store made to look Native American.

www dot aaanativearts dot

* Rocketbuster

www dot rocketbuster dot com/

*4-H-An organization with multiple projects available to educate youth. It originally designed to educate youth about the importance of agriculture and associated occupations, continuing in this endeavor, 4-H has modernized and its focus is also largely on social responsibility. Youth still take yearly 'projects' to learn skills from horticulture, animal husbandry, agriculture, domestic arts, fine arts, crafts, public speaking, leadership, even rocketry and robotics…. The list goes on. This alludes to Jane having taken sewing for several years in 4-H, and thus becoming proficient at such practice!

* Botticelli- ie the renaissance artist responsible for Birth of Venus, Primavera, etc.

en dot wikipedia dot org/wiki/Sandro_Botticelli

* * *

Chapter 5: The Date

Late Summer of the Current Year:

When Jane entered Rancho Bonito, something on her sparkled as she moved and her loose flaxen hair fluttered in the breeze. So did her dress, revealing, from time to time, more of her shapely, long legs. "You look ethereal."The light caught another momentary sparkle in her dress and Jane noticed an expression of recognition flash across Charles's face. She wondered at it.

"Thanks!" She answered, brightly, but Jane was quite resolved his good looks would not divert from her mission to learn his true intentions. The search page was too stark of a reminder.

"What do you suggest I have?" His hand shook slightly as he sipped his water.

"If you've got the constitution, I recommend getting the barbacoa plate, ask for extra hot. It isn't as elegant as Santa Fe cuisine, but it has been to the taste of many connoisseurs." She gestured to the walls, holding signed photographs of regional, national, and internationally known writers, artists, actors and singers.

"I am determined to be pleased." Jane ignored him in favor of her menu and when both were ready they ordered.

Charles asked questions about the area, while Jane provided a thorough list of places to go when he might need art or theatre project supplies. They discussed salvage shops, traditional local craftsman, as well as textile and furnishing warehouses. Jane happily described her favorite places to be outside of The Farm; two massive used bookstores in town, and a handful of quaint coffee shops.

Another favorite was the charming Film Society where one could soak in an art film, glass of wine in hand- she confided she probably preferred the concession to the sometimes too angsty movies – favoring instead when they played an indie rom com. Charles learned that Jane also spent copious hours in the Psychology department, the University Library or in one of the all night restaurants studying.

Before she could stop herself Jane was mentioning 101 where there happened to be a listening party. Jane and Char had already planned picking up Lizzy from the airport on that particular afternoon. The listening party was to be their celebration of Lizzy's return. Charles enthused about going to such an event and invited himself and his friends, describing them to Jane. Dammit, she couldn't say no. She'd have to explain this to Char and Lizzy. The two settled arrangements for that evening.

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As they shared the meal- both ordered Christmas combination plates- Jane noticed he was digging in to the hot plate with gusto, not reaching for the water even once- clearly not an amateur. Observing, Jane began her plan of attack. Questions began innocuously "Tell me about your work," that sort of thing.

Charles started out talking about his artistic mediums. She listened, a placid look on her face, all the while asking questions to draw him out. Soon enough, he was inadvertently sharing his origin story, how his father disowned him, starving for an unknown amount of time- even doing art on the streets for cash. He had his spiel down and this part- the homeless part- She wondered how many girls ever heard it or if it was a buzzkill. But not for Jane… Wait a minute, was she into a homeless guy? No, he was just confusing her now. She continued to smile, nod and listening, even while the dialogue was running in her head. She had gotten really good at multitasking this way from her family….

"There I was, dragging my work around from place to place, painting to utter exhaustion, then spending nights in whatever borrowed space I could. I ate stale peanut butter sandwiches and slept on paint spattered cement studio floors in my old North Face sleeping bag, one of the few remnants of my past life. Painting was my only luxury.

I barely had enough to live on and less than a handful of friends upon whom I could depend, yet finally, FINALLY, I felt like I was worth something, if only a little.

In order to eat, I had long since sold off what valuable possessions I'd still owned. To buy more painting supplies, but not really believing myself ready, one by one, I began to sell work. Those were the pieces nagging at the back of my head in the early hours, done whenever I could steal time and space. Those were treasures sacrificed to my former life as University dropout and disowned son of a prosperous real estate developer.

Months moved more slowly than they ever had when I was in school. Word of mouth spread. Piece by piece was completed- many on commission, others the products of those ticks in the back of the mind.

I grew in success yet not enough to pay rent and fortuitously, my best friend and artistic mentor Darcy was staying in town so he asked me to be his guest. I jumped at the opportunity, and tried to hide how broke I was. The only reason he didn't notice was because of all the stuff going on in his life at the time. He was a mess, and his family was – well, that's not my story to tell. At one point, Darcy had to go back to New York, I had nowhere to go. I was too proud to ask him for any more help even though I knew he'd come through. I didn't want his charity.

Anyhow, Caroline, my sister, let me move in. I am indebted to her hospitality. And now I get the chance to host both of them and you shall meet. _"_ Charles realized that Jane asked questions to get to know HIM better, rather than the mundane questions women asked who were only interested in his career or looks. Just who was this woman? He had to turn the tables and find out. _"_ Really, I've been going on about myself. I'm curious to know about those videos of you performing…"

Charles, a social adept in most situations, also asked questions that steered Jane into sharing about her past achievements. She even ended up discussing her family and her recent injury. She told of the pain, the recovery, but Jane didn't bare all to him, didn't say how it all affected her to this day. Even so, their mutual interest drew each into deeper conversation and both shared more than they intended, became attached more quickly than they could have imagined.

Jane remained wary of Charles, wondering if this was just his charisma and if she was going to regret her disclosures. She feared that with time- possibly in the light of day- she would see that he wasn't as fascinating as he seemed at this moment. She felt herself in great danger indeed. Damn Charlotte and Maeve.

"Jane, I'm enchanted not just by what is out here, but even more by what is in here." He surprised her with the lightest touch of his index finger just below the hollow of her throat, continuing the feather light stroke along her collarbone. Threading a lock of Jane's hair, he continued _"_ you have a way about you… you're a Botticelli angel and I'm in your thrall. I'd love sketch your character and to sketch you."

"You're being quite forward." Her voice was sharp and she bowed her head, blushing. He gently took her by the shoulders, looking in her eyes with true intensity. At his touch, Jane grew woozy despite herself, "Enticing as the offer is, I can guess your agenda and part of me is tempted. But that is against my…resolve." Jane almost swallowed the last word.

"My intentions are absolutely pure- I can be platonic if you want." Jane presumed he was thinking nothing of the kind as his head drifted closer to hers.

She couldn't help but tilt her head forward to catch his conversation, smell his essence and feel his warm breath on her cheek. "This is dangerous." Her admonitions wore thin. Recalling something important- the page- mustn't forget the page-, she changed tactics, her head shifted away. "I've seen your work on the internet. I must admit it is amazing. I noticed that you sell a few nudes-f a variety of ladies."They didn't call her a black belt for nothing.

Charles bore a look of discomposure and Jane was duly satisfied. That had been her goal. "The last nude I -ahem- rendered was about 14 months ago- well before I knew of this production- of you. I was done with it then. I admit I've been around with several of my models. In the back of my mind I was waiting to meet someone to capture me who appreciates who I really am- not just what I do." He looked at her in a certain way when he said 'someone' _. "_ When I came across you- I couldn't help myself. It feels like we've known each other . I need to…. I can't explain..." He sighed, trying again "I just want to enjoy working on this production, make some art while I'm here, and (laughing) I don't know, date you or something if you like me. And hopefully, if I'm very very lucky, my newest muse will agree to be the subject of my work."

She regarded Charles, her stomach fluttery since finding the nerve to ask hard questions. How had his charm grown in proportion to his awkwardness? She shook her head, "You're almost irresistible."

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He walked her to her car and Jane could feel the adrenaline of fascination. Charles took her hand kissing it in his sweet, lingering manner. The action suggesting more, as his soft open lips caressed the crevices of her knuckles. She was opening. "Thanks for the chance." His words caressed her fingers, sending wisps of warmth up her arm, pulsing to other places.

Jane felt as if her insides had sunk to her toes and the space left was filled with avarice. "I didn't say I'd give you a chance." Her fingers were tingling where his lips trailed, Breathing caught ever so slightly, communicating to him that she would, indeed, give him a chance. "I am quite taken by you, Mr. Bingley. But,"Jane said sweetly, "If you hurt me, you will be sorry. I don't let my guard down for just anyone."

As she spoke her hand gripped Charles like a vice. His eyes widened and he managed; "I swear; I'm honorable." Her grip softened but not her gaze. He begged a moment then fished out a token he kept in his pocket. It was a heart shaped locket with a glass encased lock of hair next to picture of his great great grandfather as a dashing young man. The man could have been Bingley, they were so alike. He pressed it into her hands. "I've never handed out family heirlooms to anyone, much less a 'mere' model."

She certainly wasn't going to accept this."I take it I'm not a mere model?"

"In case I've not made my feelings clear, know this. Exquisite as you are outwardly, it pales in comparison to the glimpses you've given me of what's inside. This is a symbol: I trust you with something irreplaceable, intimately connected with me to show that you can trust me.

My great great grandmother and grandfather met and married in 2 days. She a put her husband's photo in here. She wanted him close to her heart while he was in Europe fighting the First World War. At the time the locket itself was an antique and old fashioned but they were sentimental. She held out hope through the war. At one point he was thought dead. Just before the memorial service he turned up in a hospital. The man had lost his legs from trench rot, but other than that he healed. The two of them went off to Paris for a time and made art, becoming part of the Lost Generation. They settled down and had seven children and long lives. They're an inspiration to me.

The day I got this show was the day this locket came to me in the mail. It had no return address on the package. When I called my family to find out who sent it, everyone swore that locket had been buried with my grandmother. I took it as a sign, and when I came upon you I felt I knew what it was telling me. So, if I have to fight a battle for your heart, I will." Charles's hands encased her own which were still enfolding the heirloom. "You can trust me."

"You do know you have to work for trust, not just hand out sentimental antiques with an interesting story."Jane regarded him keenly.

"I'm generous to people I care about, and, you said it yourself, loyal to a fault. So, be careful of your challenges. I'll enjoy every minute working for your trust. What you share is safe with me." She could discern what he implied and had difficulty believing this was real. Wanting to believe it was, she looked at the token and, pinning it to her blazer and murmured thanks, unable to form any other reply. It certainly felt real as she fingered the case.

"I take that as a yes." She nodded. "And we are on for the listening party?"

Jane grasped his hand. "We're on." He said he hoped and believed she meant more than the listening party. Despite herself, she did, but she didn't answer him, simply grinning enigmatically before she got in her car.

That night, Jane lay in bed, considering Charles. It was obvious how he felt. She imagined- she knew he lay in bed a few fields away fantasizing about _her_. She could imagine him wandering up to the house, a lone light on, her silhouette, a pebble thrown at the window, her recognition and invitation. She hadn't felt turned on in months, but he really did _it_ for her. When she lay there after her achievement, Jane had to admit she'd never felt such connection- lock to key, hand to glove. She'd already lost everything, and apparently so had he. Perhaps they both knew how to fight. She turned over and dreamed that she was watching something from The Imaginarium of Dr Parnassus with Charles standing center stage.

* Christmas (enchiladas)- red and green chile (enchiladas) together on the same plate: Hatch Valley ( and New Mexico) green chile is famous because of its highly addicting, earthy flavor. Once you get started on mild, you just want hotter and hotter. The heat (at least if the chile isn't freezerburned/ etc) is more flavorful than the chemical heat of many other varieties of chile.

*I am amalgamating years for the sake of this story. When I was in college, El Paso had the 3rd largest garment producing city in the nation. The garment district in downtown El Paso was impressive. Since that time a lot of these producers have relocated from Juarez to China and although there are still lots of stores downtown, it lacks details like the myriad fabric stores with amazing fabrics. There was also an incredible leather warehouse in south El Paso, near Juarez, with all kinds of embossed leathers for amazing prices.

*warning, this may make you very hungry: here are examples of the Southern New Mexican restaurants:

latinopia dot com/latino-food/best-mexican-restaurants-las-cruces-new-mexico

*Lost Generation: en dot wikipedia dot org/wiki/Lost_Generation

* * *

Chapter 5: Unexpected meeting

One day before the anticipated outing, Jane sat at the table, large coffee in hand, determined to focus on her studies. She was not analyzing a certain someone. She was not. But when the subject of her reverie unexpectedly breezed into Desert Spirit, she was ill prepared.

"Unbelievable luck. I'm sure it's a sign." She wasn't sure if she heard him right. Jane had been too busy observing Charles's ensemble – and how good he looked in it. His skinny slacks and well crafted wingtips, subtly contrasted with a fitted pinstriped shirt which accentuated his taut chest and slim frame. If Charles's blue eyes weren't so arresting, to her embarrassment, Jane might have found it hard to look away from his assets. _Keeping myself under regulation may prove quite the task._

She was astonished as she watched his eyes rake over her, head to toe. She felt like she was seeing herself through his eyes, simply by watching his expression. Her hair was twisted into a side chignon; she wore a creamy Indian style belted peasant tunic with the lightest purple flowers. Around her neck was 'his' locket, perched in her cleavage. The light shone behind her, outlining her form. When he finished the visual tour, his adam's apple dipped and she barely restrained a laugh when he actually gulped.

He stumblingly complimented her, which she deflected with particular interest in his sartorial origins. Charles told her how usually he allowed his sister and Jorge to dress him and cared little for conversing on the topic. He was suddenly spouting information that seemed to shock himself about the topic of fashion. She invited him to check out her Aunt's vintage store. That would be a good test- take him in for her aunt Phillips and the biddies to size him up. Of course the scheme could turn on her… Before she could take the invitation back, he was excitedly agreeing to the plan.

Conversation meandered into comparing their respective families and childhood anecdotes, such as his brother and father's unsuccessful attempts at getting him to play any kind of sport and Caroline's enthusiasm for pageants as a child.

Jane compared her own fair queen experience and the family's involvement in 4-H. She spoke of her mother's scheming and small town intrigues. Later she would look back in embarrassment: _I can't believe I told him that. I never go into such intimate detail, not with acquaintances, and certainly not men who are interested in me. Not men like HIM. Shit._ That was really too much. She couldn't help but laugh at that one and was almost regretful at his hurt expression. She apologized.

Charles looked at his phone and gasped "I hate to leave but I'm running late." But still, he sat there, unmoving, staring at her, frozen in an almost kiss.

"Why don't I walk you to your car, would that help?" Jane offered, wondering what his touch would feel like.

After a harrowing 30 seconds spent walking to the car she felt fingers caress paths along Jane's palms, up her arms, along her shoulders. Jane thought she might turn to jello. Damn him. They lightly embraced, bodies burned, mouths longed to taste, arms grasped. Ultimately both quit the hopeless business before they got farther off track from their less desirable former activities.

As he drove, Charles recalled an experience previously discarded as diversion.

He went last year with Darcy to Catalina's place in Sedona. They'd been meandering through West Sedona and came upon a psychic fair. On a lark Charles signed up for a session.

Darcy had glowered at Charles's whim but said nothing, grudgingly accompanying him to a room decked out in windchimes, statuary, giant crystals, and strewn with cushions. A wizard-like man named Victor sat before him at the reading. As instructed, Charles said nothing.

The Intuitive told Charles- "You are an artist of some kind? You seem to be chasing the muse. You're more tired than you look. Appearances are deceiving.

Don't worry, you'll find her. I have an image of you on a stage, traveling across desert, across farmland, across highway, across schools.

Your true nature is to withhold nothing: she will love you and hate you for it but you have to fight just like it was a Great Battle.

I am a peaceful soul who knows sometimes one must stand firm, one must face the ugliness for the sake of experiencing the beauty of love. Know yourself. Know the signs. They are gifts from heaven."

Charles was breathless at the detail Victor's foresight portended. What had been an amusement now rang true and Charles felt not a little silly as he considered the old wizard's words. He wondered at the warnings until his thoughts settled on more agreeable things.

* IE Preraphaelite art

*Sedona:

en dot wikipedia dot /article/five-new-age-metaphysical-shops-in-sedona-arizona-a403801/Sedona,_Arizona

and its famed new age shops:

suite101 dot com/article/five-new-age-metaphysical-shops-in-sedona-arizona-a403801

The next night

The anticipated date commenced at the international deli for a late lunch. Char, Richard and Will (as he liked to be called in the company of acquaintances) would make up the rest of their party.

Char and Richard did not disappoint Jane's hopes that they would get along. Richard, a Colonel who had recently transferred to Fort Bliss, seemed to easily win Char's attention. They flirted shamelessly, the (almost) Doctor and the Colonel. _Quite the power match_ , Jane inwardly observed.

Then she was distracted in conversing with Charles about her favorite finds in El Paso, like the leather warehouse, an amazing fabric store, a bootmaker and the best places to get territorial furniture all of which had their uses for outfitting the production on which they were working.

Conversation meandered to life on both sides of the border. Charles showed great interest in an international 4-H program Jane had been in. It had contributed to the betterment of farmers and their families in the borderlands. He even expressed desire to participate in such endeavors himself which revealed something to Jane about his sentiment. She wondered what his actions revealed about his character.

This line of discussion having come to its natural conclusion, Jane and Charles turned to Will concerned at his quietude. The man was more occupied with an ipad containing his sketchbook and lists than with taking any notice of conversation with his tablemates. Jane wondered if he'd even remember having met them later- he seemed almost Aspergian, if not for the haunting look in his eye, which she'd catch every so often. He was an intriguing, handsome man, but one who could never interest her.

From allusions Charles made, Jane had gathered Darcy was not what he seemed. Charles said he'd experienced some losses and was just now settling down from the last one. Perhaps this was the cause of his intense disposition. Mischievously, Jane wondered if Lizzy would have the spirit to handle this handsome man with a brooding disposition- in a few hours, she would find out.

well, ODC are about to meet...


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

WARNING: THIS IS DEFINITELY MOSTLY M DURING THIS CHAPTER. So if that offends you, skip this. ODC HAVE LOTS OF HMS.

You've been warned!

Chapter 6: Earthly Flight, Unearthly Night, Crashing Down to Morning

It was really too bad Maya driven on her own to Lambton in that tiny car of hers, shoved to bursting with her things. Lizzy would have liked her company on the flight. Flying always elicited exceeding exasperation- at the lack of control, communal air and toilets, seatbelt lights, and 'complimentary' peanuts. She never got comfortable with listening to music in flight. Turbulence warnings and whatnot could be missed.

But this time, Lizzy found the landing procedures were fully underway before she'd even considered her usual Skymall* distraction. Soon enough she would plunge into the hot August plexiglass and plastic of El Paso International Airport. Other matters had easily occupied her time in the brief hours of air between Durango* and El Paso.

Lizzy spent the flight reflecting on her journey. Was it possible to descend from the mountaintop experience of Lambton? The summer was a needed reprieve from the previous year's devastations and a lifetime of resistance. Inspiration persisted, while thoughts ventured toward the future: How will things go on the upcoming school production?

Grateful for Maeve and Jane's work to start the production, Lizzy did not want to admit how nervous she was to have missed its beginning. At least her research was far along and swatches were given to the other designers, albeit later than she had wanted.

She repressed a shudder at the man she dubbed Mr Fancy Pants. His stilted letters indicated he was quite miffed at her sparse correspondence. Maeve sent packets of designs from various production designers but the Scenic Artist stood out of the bunch. Lizzy was deeply chagrined to admit that his work was exquisitely drafted. Especially because, in trading initial renderings, most of his ideas for a Georgian style had been accepted while Lizzy was asked to make several adjustments to her work which had a distinctive French Revolutionary flair.

It had been a good thing that The Tailor had been such a great resource for that particular era or she would've never completed the changes.

Lizzy remembered how Maeve responded in one letter: "suck it up like a professional and get used to this kind of treatment because in universes other than Longbourn, Costume Designers in fact are not the ruling goddesses but instead mere adjunct deities. Besides, he happens to be right in this case."

 _What is up with that? She took HIS side! Since it IS Maeve, I'm trying to do as my mentor bade, as much as I hate it. She usually backs us. I wonder why she's backing him? Could it be any more than what The Tailor said? Is the man really so visionary?_ Lizzy grudgingly found the most recent changes to be rather easy but hadn't responded to the last correspondence which had arrived the last day of her stint in Lambton.

She planned on discussing them in person with Fancy Pants and the other designers at their first meeting, which, incidentally, was early the next morning.

* * *

She was obsessing about design minutiae when Lizzy's ponderings were interrupted by the landing announcement. Jane and Char excitedly greeted her, hugging and squealing in the airport. It felt like she was yet in a dream. The three emerged into the waning Southwest summer heat, awashing Lizzy in sensory awareness.

"A plate of Mexican food at Taco Cabana could set me up for the night!" At Lizzy's request, the three set off to have Lizzy's first, much anticipated Carne Adovada plate since leaving New Mexico three months ago.

Much as she loved the high country cuisine in Lambton, the wait for a taste of beloved NM chile seemed interminable. While they dined, Lizzy entertained with story after story cast with diverse characters including miners, outlaws, new age rainbow wanderers, artists, and of course, _The Tailor_. (she neglected to tell of a certain main who she'd rather simply put out of her mind). Having changed in the bathroom, Lizzy, Jane and Char were off to stand in line at 101 to secure a comfortable table for their group.

Jane and Char had mentioned meeting some friends there, someone Jane was seeing. She was so low key about it all; Lizzy's suspicions should have been aroused but were not. It could have been her determination not to read into things because she was still a little annoyed at her sister's sparse correspondence. Maybe Lizzy was high from the chile adrenaline rush.

Perhaps her sister and friend had intentionally been vague. (Knowing of Lizzy's petulance about her design ideas and her fuming about Mr Fancy Pants, they in fact had been.) Lizzy would never know and those two would never tell.

*RIP Skymall- who hasn't experienced the fun catalogs in airplanes with all kinds of kooky gadgets?

*Durango, Colorado - en-dot- wikipedia -dot org /wiki/Durango,_Colorado

* * *

Because the Night

Warning- MA stuff here

She'd been waiting all week for the great music, fascinating company and interesting sights. This night was to launch the fall semester. Past and future would coalesce into pure potential and she wasn't even half aware. She only fancied herself to be.

These nights dancing into oblivion always mingled truth and vision into ineffable oneness. She sometimes found herself carried away in inspiration of these things, returning home to sketch new designs for example. She was in great anticipation this particular night.

She and Jane had always been big Interpol fans and so of course when 101* had their listening party, they were determined to go and immerse themselves in the dance and the scene, no matter the night. She had sorely missed dancing at 101- it had been 101 days since the last time I'd been here- surely a sign this night had meaning.

They loved 101- it was a tiny slice of sartorial and musical inspiration, with its always varied set of indies, goths, hipsters, artists, bohos, geeks, steampunks and people who just defied category (probably because they were from New Mexico, she thought). While granola and shabby chic style had its own merits, she was happy to be back in a city that offered more fashion diversity. *

DJ's Greg and Sandra always spun the most original mixes, from rare older goth, original post punk, to the more ubiquitous 'indie' music. Tonight, the club had its fair share of men dressed in well tailored vintage ensembles. The assortment of urbane young men had that unmistakable something so very attractive yet inaccessible.

Lizzy quickly became wrapped up in people watching, especially the men, after the drought of this summer. So many finely turned out young men was quite enough to put former resolutions out of many a young woman's head, and the same could be said for Lizzy. But if their sartorial choices were any indication, most of them were put together for a straight guy in these parts. Oh well, it meant she could easily scope out their fashion without worrying about giving the wrong impression.

She zeroed in on a case in point: who else but a gay man would be brave enough in El Paso to wear a kilt? He had this cropped mussed hair and some sexy tattoos on his muscular arm. In that kilt he was either about 10 years behind or else he was cutting edge like the a fashion blogger with a cult following (they exist in El Paso?) or he was..maybe SCA* or Scottish….(A kilt!)

And next to him sulked a delicious man with the most kissable lips, skin a little too pale to be from the Southwest, and lashes so long and dark he had to be wearing makeup. Over his black long sleeve tee, his tailored punk vest hugged his form nicely and he had the most well fitting charcoal jeans she'd seen in a long time. That was saying something since she'd altered herself a few dozen pants and had witnessed one of the highest authorities on the subject of tailoring this summer.

When both men looked up, Lizzy realized her mistake. They weren't a couple, with identical facial structure and builds, they must be related. She couldn't help staring at these unbelievably good looking men. Hopefully the guy in the kilt would dance on the stage at some point so she could see what was under it! _"Lizzy, you're so bad!"_

She chuckled to herself, excessively diverted. Her smile turned to a blush when she realized both were looking her direction. Kilt boy grinned while the curly one smoldered- there was no other description for his expression. She had been noticed, noticing them. Damn! She was wrong, and had been caught staring. _The hell with it, I'll go find the girls and dance_. That way she could either give these blokes the advantage of admiring her figure from afar or she'd at least be able to tell Jane and Char about her embarrassment out of their hearing range.

PPPxNMxPPPxNMxPPPxNM

She was suddenly shyly giddy. Something about them, the intense one especially, caused her to shiver with a foreboding. Or maybe it was curiosity. Why did the mysterious Woman of her Lambton 'Footloose' dream suddenly come to mind and why did it feel like She was starting trouble again? Lizzy shook her head imagining she was just adjusting to life down here in town. She had to get a grip.

As she edged over to the dance floor she mentally rehearsed what she'd never say to these exquisite fashion aliens. _So, I was wondering; what's under that kilt?_ Cliché.

 _Love your outfits!_ Too insipid.

 _Is your hair naturally curly?_ Stupid question, men never used curling irons.

 _Are those eyelashes real?_ Did she really think he would frequent a lash bar? She sighed. _Oh well. Lizzy, stop thinking and go dance like you've been waiting to do for so long._

Charlotte and Jane who were accompanied by an 80's inspired Ken doll complete with button down plaid shirt, vintage blazer and pegged slacks _. Is he for real? Wait, He is totally flirting with her._ Sure enough, the song ended and Jane quickly introduced Charles to her sister.

"Your sister is an angel!" He smiled and shook Lizzy's hand. _Yes, I know I know. My beautiful sister, Jane this, Jane that blah blah blah._ she nodded, smiled and was again embarrassed that she had judged this guy. Whatever he was saying about Jane was lost on Lizzy because the music was too loud. She continued to smile and nod while not hearing. She did notice Jane looking a little sheepish but Lizzy figured that was just her demure sister.

Anyway, she was a little concerned about Jane dancing so much and considered saying something. Her altruistic thoughts were pleasantly interrupted when the two other sartorial boys joined the table and the music started again.

Earlier in the evening, DJ Greg had been working a slow build up with remixing some of the more slow-paced Interpol songs. The current song was an old but very dance-y remixe of Untitled followed by Obstacle 1. When Charlotte and Lizzy got up to dance, Kilt boy joined them on the dance floor. _Well I'll be damned if he wasn't ogling me and Charlotte._ She inwardly commented.

The man was HOT, and a good dancer. Usually with guys who approached, the trio squeezed them out, turning around, avoiding them on the dance floor. They had long ago choreographed this defense in order to keep dancing and avoid the dumbasses at the club who just want to get laid.

Why was she thinking about sex? _I'm here to just dance and have a good time. Now if a man meets me, mind and soul- that would be a turn on, but forget it Lizzy, that is not going to happen in a dance club, of all places- remember the mountaintop._

But it was so hard to keep certain resolutions. As she moved to the music, Lizzy inadvertently turned toward the brilliant brooding specimen and see him just as this thought formed. Making a connection, her mind wandered in the most delightful manner as she let the beat take over her body. She was taken by a whimsical idea that perhaps she could make him fancy her. She was ready for such a diversion. She put her body into it.

Soaring tones pounded the rhythm with new technology of an ancient union beat. This music was so stereotypically post punk . It captivated her senses every time, possessing her with a need to move with each song. _Shake it right, lady wraith, red goddess_.

Her mind spewed random lyrics with accompanying mental images all her own. The spare and jingling cold guitars wrap her body. She became entranced, moving to this series, watching Kilt guy, Charlotte, Jane and Charles move to the same beats. They smiled with stupid pleasure in the sound, movement and company.

Everyone caught their breath after the end of the long Velopene Screen remix. Richard, the man she continued to call Kilt Boy, asked what drinks they'd like and went to order. She was glad she recently turned 21 so she could enjoy a round with everyone. No more sneaking in, relying on Fransisco the bouncer's good humor. As Richard brought some drinks, pretty eyelash boy- Will _-_ assisted.

Richard and Charles proceeded to relentlessly charm the ladies. She found out they're from New York. Richard was a Colonel stationed at Fort Bliss and the guys came to visit as Richard had leave. Lizzy bet the guys at base didn't know their Colonel wears a manskirt. Although, he was rather hulking, so perhaps he intimidated them into not laughing…All that and charm to boot.

While the two men flirted, she continued to smile and nod as she secretly checked out the quiet one from time to time, sizing him up, wondering if it would be worth it to get him out of his shell. Every time Lizzy looked over, he was staring intently at her as if to say he knew what she was thinking. _Wait!? Is he sizing me up?_ _The nerve!_ _I'm the one in charge, here._

She tilted her head at him and continued to nurse the drink, engaging in his little staring contest. _Let's just see who blinks first, Mister! Ooh! Another good song!_ She couldn't help but jump up immediately when the Heinrich Maneuver came on. _I have to dance this one!_ Char, Richard and she start dancing where they stand.

The music slowly crescendoed, beats escalating and she could hear Bingley trying to persuade the sulky wallflower to dance. Will replied"(sigh) Yes…quite delectable… interesting in a small town way…. Not …tempted …. Too artistically remote…whatever it is you consider 'artistic inspiration'…you should go back to your angel..." He punctuated a snotty warning about exploitation or somesuch, folding his arms, his adorable lips pursed in emphasis.

She turned and gave him a pointed look for his insult. _Too small town and apparently not artsy enough for the likes of him!_ She fumed while continued to stare him down, unwavering in her blistering expression.

Richard was clearly the one with the family's social genes; having witnessed the scene, he linked arms with Lizzy uttering some kindness about her interesting doily of a dress and Charlotte's well cut shorts, while insisting on the compliment of escorting finely turned out bohemmiennes onto the dance floor.

PPPxNMxPPPxNMxPPPxNM

Lights flashed to building music. Rounding hips, reaching fingers, syncing lips, flying curls- her black flapper style number imparted the knowledge of its contents. In a certain light, secrets were noticed.

She loved her vintage piece, sheer, intricately laced in a butterfly design.. The dress floated and swayed along with her body and the rhythm. She felt the music with its movement, loved watching herself in the mirrors on the walls, a gamine staring back at her instead of herself.

She could tell she was being watched by some of the men. Predator becomes prey and she felt a little satisfied that she was wrong in her assumptions. _Where are these guys normally?_

She enjoyed being seen, being wanted. She felt seen for who she was in this piece she has found and transformed into an extension of herself. As if to add self doubt, she noticed HIM watching her dance. _Not interesting enough to tempt him?_ His actions and words were contradictory, puzzling.

All the while she surreptitiously gazed at him in the mirror on the wall, him watching her, darkling eyes beneath a veil of glossy curls, passionate lips set intently. She increased the torc of her body as it moved to the music. She wanted to make him realize his mistake.

Satisfied to see him finally get up from his barstool, he moved toward her, began dancing by her, eyes fixed on her. His stare flared through her body. Coming closer and closer as he moved with the music, in sync with her. At the cusp of a power struggle, his head tilted down, lips parting intimately, millimeters away from hers, his hands tortuously close to her body.

The sweetness of his own scent mixed with his spicy earthy cologne put her under a spell. He continued in this manner for several minutes until she didn't know if she could bear the proximity. It awoke frantic need in her core.

She became dimly aware of what she was about to do. His body was so close she could sense his length even without feeling it. Impressive. Scary. Waiting. She wondered about all of him. She could sense her most primal woman self, lurking, growling with need for this prize to bring her reward. That woman began to take over as she continued dancing with him, eyes locked, bodies continuing in synchrony yet barely touching, building sacral energy.

A breeze stirred from an open door, swirling between a momentary pause of music, clearing her mind from this fugue. Recalling her original purpose, not a little regrettably, she turned and pushed through the dancers in a bid to get away from him. She didn't know where to escape. She just needed to think about what had transpired.

 _Think, not feel._ She couldn't deny the traitorous desire. She never wanted Cole like that. _He was an utter lapse in judgment; it was a ridiculous notion that I needed a man to make my future, especially Cole. Never again._ She couldn't help but look for Him. It wasn't about the future. It was about what she wanted so very badly right now.

To be even physically vulnerable towards this dark figure disturbed her. What little had she learned in Lambton?! Did she lack such self worth that she swooned at the next well appointed man to notice- one who initially spurned her, at that?

What did it matter that he noticed later? His consuming focus was frightening. Considering oblivion, she got a drink and tried to fade into the wall near the bar while planning her next move- flirtation or flight. As if she could disappear. The drink felt like disappearance for a moment.

And then _he_ sidled up, reminding her that she was seen. "That dress does incredible things for you. Very nice craftsmanship- did you make it?"(She nodded) "I can see that it is old, much older than you. You refashioned the timeless and made it your own. Makes me think about what else you can do with your hands"(She felt betrayed by her satisfaction at his approval)"Fascinating work means its maker must be at least equally so. I look forward to becoming aquianted with much more of you- and your accomplishments …."His eyes glinted her destiny. Shuddering, she gazed silently upon him expecting further explanation.

 _What is he saying?_ She asked herself, willing that part of her who knew to answer as yet concealing it from consciousness. _She Who Knows is annoyingly silent. She Who Wants To Be Taken by this man is demanding to let him take me._ Elizabeth remained silent, unable to restrain the look of invitation she wore.

As she persisted in disapproving silence, he answered, "I see you're determined to tease me. Well I deserve it." She stared at him; _Is this a line?_ His tone was so earnest. And just then a curious expression came over him. He was as intoxicated by her as she was by him.

And yet through all this he bore a palpable passion tightly wound, waiting to unfurl itself. Its effect was almost serpentine. Was she Lillith? Was she Eve?

PPPxNMxPPPxNMxPPPxNM

She tried in vain to recall her Tia Lena's wisdom about such things. Tia was always good in matters of the heart, of the loins, of the psyche, matters that were even more mysterious. That wise woman had taught a few things about expressions, seasons, signs and portents. She willed herself to understand what was behind this…. Interaction….It felt that the only way to know was to flow along this course. _Tia Lena told me to stop fighting._ Lizzy needed a sign if she would surrender. She issued a challenge: "Alright. Prove that you're worth getting to know me. Tell me a story."

He whispered in her ear soft deep utterances serving to further undo her resolve. "The butterfly is the symbol of the most beautiful woman in the world, the symbol of the Soul. You chose your symbol well. Or did it choose you?"

A poignant forgetting encompassed her as she tried to make sense of his words. _Maybe he's been to Aunt Phil's store- that is where I got the lace. But that was so long ago…_

Still the familiarity struck her as being deeper. She didn't know if she had the palate for his esoteric flirtation. In her mindseye, that Shadow Woman simultaneously beckoned, challenged and forbade her to proceed, presiding over the entire scenario. Lizzy shook her head to rid herself of That Woman.

A few yards away, friends danced with the music as thoughts flowed, and she, swept to the side by their current. She couldn't like the feeling. Helpless and wicked, it threatened to overtake her with excitement.

He was the force driving it. His eyes raked over her body, bit by bit- throat, breasts, the curve of herwaist and hips, the space between her thighs just visible through the dress at certain times. Yes, she noticed him noticing all of this and his gaze was a physical sensation that brought her closer to achievement.

Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he licked his lips as if dying of thirst. It suggested certain intentions. Any other man and she would have been insulted, yet she let him visually caress her, allowed his physical space to inhabit her. "I'm sorry I didn't realize then. I couldn't make sense of this. I still can't. But I comprehend a great deal." He whispered an unrepeatable phrase. "I promise to commit no acts of violence, either physical or otherwise if things come aright."

She couldn't believe he actually quoted an Interpol song. How could she possibly follow through with this kiss or … whatever?She hesitated, enticed by his glance, his eyes, his lips, his scent, the maddening visions he elicited. She defiantly appraised him, only to find herself feeling like prey.

She gasped- for air or in pleasure she was not sure. Her knees wobbled. Seeing her unsteadiness, he grasped her arms. Another sharp, clear, intake of breath and the lights went up again for an intermission. She steadied herself, asking him to give her time to think. He nodded curtly and disappeared like the undead into the fading darkness.

Thankfully, Charlotte was instantly at her side. Giggling and pointed out Charles and Jane snuggling in a booth with a bottle of expensive wine. Who knew the club even had the stuff? _Lucky bitch_ , she joked. Charlotte's shining eyes show that she too is a little envious, but not too much. Jane deserved it.

Richard the Kilt joined them shortly, anyway, telling hilarious stories of his cousin and friend. In that moment, she was simply having fun. She could tell Charlotte was attracted. She weighed leaving them alone against staying with them for her own protection- for the moment: Richard's easy conversation implied they'd see more of these guys - at least if Richard or Charles were any indication. _Where did that leave Will?_

Presciently, Charlotte and Richard wondered at Will's demeanor. Richard joked about his cousin who usually was as unsocial as old Ben Kenobi. He sobered, mentioning an un-named tragedy which grounded Will, when, at the age of 22, he took charge of the family business and his much younger brother. Richard's younger cousin, though all of 28, was really a gentle but intense soul. He learned to protect himself after being bullied and taken in. Will wasn't often appreciated for himself as a person.

 _Hence the strange manners and Houdini act_ , she couldn't help but think. She was strangely reassured at giving in to such a man. Her body knew what her mind could not comprehend. Which was dangerous, because his complexities ignited hers. Her mind began believing the reality that her senses knew.

Her preconceptions had been strong and how wrong they were, the clues about him engaged her interest like a mystery novel in its unfolding. Why she could believe the clues was a mystery? Was she a dupe? It depended on what she found in the end.

Richard and Charlotte laughed as the next song began, No I in Threesome. She's enjoyed the conversation but this made her feel like a third wheel. They approached the dance floor again.

His looks prickled her body from time to time as she laughed and danced. She needed and was over wrought by such a feeling, unaccustomed to such intensity. He appeared out of nowhere, captivating her nostrils with notes of clove. His hand skimmed the outside of her arm, brushing her breast ever so slightly as it moved down. It set her thrumming. His hips and legs again synchronized with hers as their bodies fell into a rhythm.

He paused to await her response- a word, an action, a touch. The music and lights changed, her consciousness sparked again, demanding she excuse herself from the dance floor without destination, ending up in the back room.

The back room was a secret place. She was not well acquainted with it but aware of its existence. A place for VIPs, the door was always obscured in a dark corner by a tall speaker. She slipped easily through, plugging her ears to the deafening thumps. Not Even Jail reverberated; her own body slouched against the wall in temporary escape.

Sighing, she wondered what he'd do- not just tonight, but after, banishing the idea that there could be any kind of after with his inaccessibility. She relished the loss and the memory his scent, the feeling of his almost touches, the look in his eyes, images of his body and perfect face. These sensations empowered images bounding through her mindseye.

* * *

The ability to keep her faculties intact was quickly demolished when he slid through the door. How he enveloped her- his spicy woodsy scent, sweet, intoxicating breath, eyes that trapped her, that exquisite sculpture of a body- lean muscled and tall yet with the slight fleshiness of youth.

His image was an embodiment of a myth or fairy tale. The ruler of her seduction, she feared. She couldn't move for taking in his presence completely as her breathing quickened, gaze is arrested in his.

Whispering the sweetest threat of what comes next; Will's steely velvet resolve, hands and body covered her. His voice hitched, the tone high, urgent, demanding and yet soft as he ordered her with his questions. "Do you want to escape?"

"No," she pled.

"Really?" She considered it hopeless, his persistent questions teased, accompanied by his maddeningly slow, slight touch that sent her into a frenzy. It was her misery and pleasure. Insinuating himself powerfully, gently, he restrained her wrists above her head with one hand, continuing his slow assault ever closer to her nether regions.

His hand barely grazed, ever lower each millimeter of her dress and she felt him through the sheerness. He took the most arduous route toward achievement, making her afraid she would never come. There was no other awareness than overwhelming desire for him, seductively insistent.

And it had been so long- since…. No, never. Never had anyone touched her like this. There was no other connection.

All the while he told unbearable things about herself as if no one else had seen her before. She felt in a dream, this couldn't be real. How could anyone know? How could he whisper words that communicate such ardor?

She fell, enamored, in utter submission to his will, unable to help herself. She physically sensed what was before her eyes – so close she could feel His hotness and discern each ridge of his fingerprint gliding over her. It would be fruitless to think of anything else. Thoughts in the presence of such sensations render no escape.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, making ast if to stop when his hands finally reached the hem of her dress, with the most feathery touches to her thighs.

"NO. Don't stop," she spoke, between gasps.

He continued to question her during a persistent, maddening pursuit of her pleasure. His touch was a tremulous sensation on her pelvic bone, her inner thigh. He dared just stroke her heat through the lacy, now wet, panties. "Do you want me to give you an orgasm?"

"Yes!"

"You have been very naughty with your impudent evasiveness. Do you know how I shall take you in hand?"

"Tell me….Tell..me.." She asked between shallow breaths.

He shook his head, inscrutable gleam in his eye, "No, I am going to show you… you will just. Have. To. See. And feel….what I do with every stroke."

Speakers emitted overwhelming decibels behind the wall where she stood, pressed. Yet she heard the smallest of sounds, foreboding slow escalation toward final release.

A click as he fastened locks on her wrist restraints which extended from somewhere above. Manacles reaching down from heaven, grasped her.

She could not see anyone else in the dark room. She guessed that with his influence, the right doors were closed at his bidding.

For some reason, she enjoyed this sense of fear of being found, of not being satisfied. He brought her to the point of burning as his liquid chocolate voice spoke of unknown ecstasies. How she yearned to take these secrets inside, awaiting every delicious word as his voice teased her ear, fed her own.

Never more had she wanted a man to completely impale her as she did at this moment. "Just take me," she pled.

Even as Will continued to titillate her with his fingers and hands, breath and scent, his words were like the crop he brandished. Making a swishing sound it cut through the air as he took her in hand to tell her the rules.

PPPxNMxPPPxNMxPPPxNM

A gentlemanly Master if ever there was one. He uttered the safety word with a little curve of his lips, 'fits'.

She found it odd; another of his little inscrutabilities. But then, she was never in a position to make use of her knowledge that things such as safe words existed. Of course, she could never have imagined Someone such as this man could be real.

She could hear no noise as stiff smoothness grazed arms legs and spaces in between. Trembling, her breath came in clean, deep pants. Her legs spread wide, dripping down, thrust out to catch the smallest touch of his torturing soft hand or the stiff smooth device, even as he has completely restrained her, physically and sensually.

Turning her to face the wall, the cold hardness pressed upon her breasts, tantalizing them. He smacked her inner thighs, causing her to gasp and spread herself even wider. Her face turned, she couldn't see through her long curls to discern what he is doing. She could only feel: the crop moving along her legs, the softness of his tongue on her and then a 'crack!' as he shocked her spaces to attention. Thus repeated the process, softness of mouth and fingers pleasuring longer each time, a crack on her cheeks, stinging her nether lips blissfully again and again in a cycle of titillation and torture.

He finally tasted, pleasured her with his tongue and she was on the brink. Just as her breath came quicker and quicker toward release, he withdrew, giving several smacks. She could no longer tell whether this stinging and pulsing was orgasm, the pain and ecstasy were so blended and foreign but never more exquisite.

Her full attention focused on him at that point of pleasure. It was the silence of her body that revealed the feelings to herself. Thoughts were worthless and weak, betrayed by such desire. Ideas and Ideals intertwining, blurred, the line between love and sensuality making no sense.

All that she could sense was that which she felt, so completely outside rational thought, transcending thought. She let go at that moment and her Self then took flight, attuned to every blissful look, touch, scent, reverberation.

Ever more and ever mercilessly slow, touch became the crop, taste became suckling, grazing became penetration. He inched her toward climax, growing closer by fractions, infinitely nearer, seemingly never there, seeming to always just- almost- touch such ecstasies. His pace was still slow and his demeanor deliberate but his touch became only softness, then.

Her dress long had been discarded and she was not even aware of exactly how or when. All she knew was how his hands and mouth moved over every inch, lingering where he could tell she most wanted him.

Each crest came and then he would move on; his tongue flit on her rib cage until she could take it no more. Then he moved to the underside of her breasts caressing and tasting until she was sure she'd burst. Just then he moved on to the valley between them doing the same.

Lapping the hollow of her throat, he bit and suckled her shoulders, whispered and flicked his tongue in the folds of her ears. She was sure he made at least one hickey. He continued kissing and caressing his way down her spine, around her derriere, up and down her legs and finally again to her core.

She began to ride a swell; the pressure building and collapsing more and more intensely until it was unbearable and she begged. Moving in and out like breath, he has finally sheathed himself and has taken her. His resolve continued, still, dominating both of their releases. Driving his length and hardness, she savored the slowness as he held her tightly against the wall. She has moved beyond adoration for his mastery. It brought her to this place. Shuddering from the sensations that seem to go on and on, both careened onto the sheerest edge of delight.

Finally. Timeless ecstasy exploded within, somewhere. An endless storm of pressuring, shuddering energy rippled through her core, radiating up her belly, tickling her throat, with a final lightning burst in her head. She convulsed with aftershocks of pleasure.

Finally, he released into her inner sanctum, worshiping, baptizing, and anointing it with the violence of his own orgasm. He shuddered endlessly- no longer the man in complete possession of himself. Moments passed and he collapsed for a split second. Yet again, he took control; his hardness belied a soft glint in the eyes and a slight twitch in the jaw.

He released her bonds but did not release her from his grasp or his sight. In the afterward, he carried her to a couch and lay down over her with heaving sides and pitched voice, looking at her again and it was different.

Before, he saw her in a way she only afterward could understand. It made her look into herself differently. Having ascended the heights, she could now look back at the pinnacle, the transcendence.

PPPxNMxPPPxNMxPPPxNM

He saw her differently, after. She could tell from his gasp as he instinctively embraced her, and by what response arose within herself. Unable to remember ever having control, she wondered if it all was somehow maneuvered to get to this point of complete submission to her passion- literally or figuratively. Hell, even spiritually.

She didn't even know it existed in real life. Tonight she lost control, beyond all reason, longing for him to take her. How is it that in one night, at a club, a near stranger became everything?

The man was consumed by her- learned to tell this by the warmth of his stare. No it was more- something new and unknown. She could concede, with a little fear, that it could merely be the amazing pleasure. He couldn't possibly consider it to be more- how could it be?

Seeming to read her mind, he whispered, "You have bewitched me, body and soul."

"Thank you. Likewise, Will."

"It has been my very great pleasure, Elizabeth." She tittered at his gentility. "Your acquaintance is most welcome. I am completely at your disposal. A word, a look, and I am yours."

 _Who was really in control, after all?_ She wondered.

Both got dressed and cleaned up in an almost ritualistic fashion, in the aftermath of a tidal wave.

Quiet, she looked at him with longing. He bore an expression of depth, his actions all attentiveness and solicitude, offering to buy her a drink- alcohol, soda, juice? Did she want to sit down? He remained at her side. She could say little, simply reveling.

When the music finally stopped for the morning, the gentlemen walked them to the car. Charles reminded the group of already made plans to get together. Others in the group piped in about the activity. Lizzy looked on questioningly, not aware of the plans, uncertain of what to say. Will merely nodded his head and whispered something that Lizzy's anxieties prevented her from fully hearing. Embarrassment kept her from asking anything more.

Her mind dumbly racing and she went through the motions of driving, willing herself to stay awake. Although the ringing in her ears went a good way to maintain a certain level of wakefulness.

On the way back to Dona Maria, Jane quickly fell asleep, likely dreaming of her new beau, Charles the Ken Doll. Charlotte kept quiet, likely lost in her thoughts for a time. Then, about half way through the hour long drive, Charlotte leaned across the seat and whispered "you smell like sex!" Lizzy said nothing but had no problem staying awake for the rest of the early morning till they made it home. She was totally embarrassed, but didn't have any regrets, she didn't think. Not yet.

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*101 used to be a cool club that college kids went to in the early 90's, before that were Mesa Inn and Campus Queen. This may be dating myself but during that time, the 'styles' mixed pretty freely in El Paso/ Las Cruces (Dona Maria). I am using more current terms to 'define' the types. Go to urban dictionary or check out Etsy or Ebay if you want specifics on each type of culture/style. I figure I'd wear everyone out if I defined them all here but leave a comment if you want to have more info.

*SCA- Society for Creative Anachronism- The group of folks who get together and re-enact the middle ages complete w/ garb, food, tents, and making stuff from scratch like armor. I forget who has a really cool fanfic w/ this I think it is called Longborn and Pemberley go to War.

If you have questions on any other esoteric references, comment and I will add it to the comments section

Please let me know you exist by following, commenting. I appreciate it!


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

please follow, and/or review :)

any other beta offers will also be considered

Chapter 7: The Aftermath- or Afterglow, Depending on Your Point of View

8:30 am the next morning:

She felt, predictably, like a freight train had run through her and she was hearing nonspecific music that wasn't there, uncertain if it was a hallucination from lack of sleep or ears ringing from last night. Her mouth felt like cotton. But, she mustn't miss the first run through for the first mainstage show she was designing.

She made it to the theatre on time, only because her curls were so crunchy from the night before she didn't have to do much to them. They kindof looked like dreadlock curls. Lizzy hoped they looked intentional…

And, admittedly, she threw on the doily dress from the night before, this time worn as a top, under which she wore a pair of perfectly distressed jeans, along with boots and a blazer. _Give me a break_ , she woke up later than she wanted and couldn't get to her bags.

Lizzy was adequately awake for the ensuing read through thanks to a mocha and being nervous about her first time designing a big production. She stopped for a drink at the water fountain and overheard some snotty voice talking about this being pretty remote culturally. He sounded familiar. She wanted to stay and eavesdrop but was about to be late and so scurried into the conference room. Soon, techies, designers and supporting crew filed in and Lizzy was trying desperately not to show the mortification she felt when the Guest Artists enter and the first person was HIM.

Inevitably introductions got around to her: "Fitzwilliam Darcy, Scenic Artist, meet Costume Designer, Elizabeth Bennet." His face was a mask except for the molten look in his eyes that flickered momentarily when he glanced at her. Lizzy was sure that the deep breath he took was for her benefit. It communicated what Charlotte dared to tease earlier this morning.

Was she that obvious? Was this his acknowledgment of intimacy?She decided to play it up. Arching her brow and smiling, she spoke, "Please, Fitz-william, let's start off less formally- all my friends call me Lizzy. What shall I call you?"

"You can call me anything you like," he responded, "Darcy is the name my friends and colleagues call me, only special people call me Will; whatever fits." an almost smile turning up the corners of his mouth, the familiar glint returning to his eyes as they flitted over her form.

She wondered what that meant exactly. "Well, I suppose as your colleague I should call you Darcy, if someone from so culturally remote a place is worthy to be considered a colleague that is."

He shot a stunned look couldn't formulate a reply as the read through was called to order. She had other things to occupy her attention besides the read through- thoughts tumbled through her now alert mind. She'd expected- counted- the uncertain hours until she would see him when they went on the group date. She admittedly perseverated over all the instances of his superiority complex, the pompous letters, today's overheard comments, last night.

Then came a revelation. Why had she not noticed before? Oh, yeah, maybe it was because she was thinking about how easy she'd been last night and how uneasy that now made her. Now, here Lizzy was and here Jane was and she seemed so familiar interacting with Charles as the meeting was breaking up into separate clumps of people. Or couples, as was the case for Jane and Charles. _I'll_ _be damned if they didn't look like they'd been together for more than last night._

Then. It. Clicked.

Lizzy recalled Jane's vague story last night of her recent date with that guy who turned out not to be an internet stalker but a really nice and gorgeous artist. And what else was that about him? With Lizzy's eagerness to get to the club, she hadn't found the time to learn anything else.

Then Lizzy recalled how she thought it odd that shy Jane would introduce 3 strangers in the club last night…Charles going on and on about Jane …Charlotte even seeming more familiar with a strange man than was her wont… Now that she put her previously brushed aside observations together Lizzy made another conclusion entirely, especially in light of her sister's sparse correspondence this summer. Jane had gotten to know Charles at some point this summer- so that was how she was spending her time.

That meant Charles, Richard, and Will knew the three would be there. He must have known who she was to begin with. It made her a little nauseous to realize the ego boost she got from his pretty words and seduction last night. More than that, his looks, his actions made her hopeful, in spite of herself.

She wanted more. Who wouldn't? To call last night a peak experience would be an understatement. To call this situation a nightmare would have been glorifying it. She didn't have time to contemplate it at the moment; she had to focus on design presentations and planning for the show. It was too much. Her mind would not cooperate and it made her head hurt.

Her mind returned to the fact that He was the one Lizzy had been mentally arguing with ever since she saw his maddeningly exquisite sketches that were all wrong for her ideas of this show. They were messing her up. _He_ was messing her up. Did he know? If there was any doubt, about it, that was soon put to rights: _Most_ of the staff was keen on her sketches and ideas at this meeting, but _he_ continually posed challenges throughout the presentation- everyone's, for that matter- except for Bingley's of course! The nerve!

His demeanor was one of meticulous hauteur– just like one of those snotty 'Professionals' from larger Theatre Cities hired for productions every once in awhile. Full of themselves and about where they live. _Puts me off of urban living when people act superior about it…Puts me off him altogether._

On and on he questioned: Why had she not sent updated sketches to go with the most recent drawings he and Bingley had emailed? Did she not know they thought about the change in color in Act V? _How could I? I was in f*ing WIFI nomansland! HELLO! Didn't he realize I'd been corresponding BY MAIL?_

Maeve, thank g*d, jumped in preventing Lizzy from the opportunity of wrecking her career before it started. Lizzy didn't even want to go into what she'd thought of his ideas on the period and regional inspirations which she HAD been able to relate in letters to Maeve- she wondered how much, if any, of her messages Maeve forwarded.

Lizzy could tell by her impish expression and tone that Maeve meant business as she explained the remoteness of Lizzy's summer internship. That woman was entirely too patient with Darcy. She was usually such a good judge of character...

 _O my g*d! She knew him!_ How could she forget Maeve's summer work in Santa Fe? It was all Lizzy could do to keep her forehead from meeting the table, repeatedly, in self flagellation. Soon enough her inquisition was over and it moved on to uninteresting matters, such as the actors, giving Lizzy far too much time to think again- her mind found its way to where she'd left off… _b*st*rds making sport of our virtues_ …ah yes…

That such a man could be authentic was impossible. To her sickening dread, Lizzy thought his motivation much more likely to be out of artistic ego than from any true revelation. He clearly thought his origins more worthy than their current surroundings. What if they were just toying with the locals? She pictured a 21st century Valmont* sexploitation and her stomach churned dangerously.

He knew about her before, not because of some artistic precognition but because Charles- maybe even Jane- had told him! She was becoming green with regret as the bile rose within. The regret was particularly… forceful….

With amazing timing the meeting was adjourned at that point. She jumped up before everyone else and ran to the lobby restroom to effectively clear her digestive system of all its contents. Thank G-d she'd made it in time. Even if she felt he deserved her wrath she would not have liked barfing on the man- and it would have been particularly mortifying to have done so in his presence at all. Then he'd know how uneasy she'd become. Lizzy refused to give him that pleasure. Ever.

PPPxNMxPPPxNMxPPPxNM

When she emerged from the restroom, there he was just outside, his expressive eyes upon her. "Lizzy -you left so fast, I was worried. Are you OK? Let me get you something- I have ginger tea…or sports drink you should have something after-"

"After what?" she hissed. "What exactly was last night? What is it you have in mind, REALLY? Did you really think your dominator act would get me to do whatever you want and be your plaything while you're out here in the country?"By this point her body was trembling and tears sprang in her eyes but her voice was- well- loud)

"You're not well, let me help you," He took her gently by the arm like gentlemen used to escort ladies in former days. He propelled her through the nearest doorway from the loo- which happened to be the ticket booth conveniently dark, empty and unlocked.

"How dare you…kidnap me- again! What are you trying to do?" Lizzy tried to screech this but the words came out as squeaks. Again she felt paralyzed. And weak. She had to sit down - she nearly missed the tall stool and he maddeningly was right there to steady her. Her mind, her stomach, continued to churn and war internally.

Lizzy had not drunk enough to warrant such a hangover… maybe it was the lack of sleep…food poisoning… her head was spinning with vague thoughts about her current state, what she really needed to be doing right now, why HE was here, what HE was planning to do…

"You look a little pale- sit down and drink some this."

Lizzy took a whiff and sure enough the scent of ginger and honey hit her nostrils and her stomach immediately calmed. She was tempted. She looked at him warily. He uncapped the lid and showed the contents- there were 2 tea bags with the familiar affirmation tags attached*.He proceeded to show Lizzy how full it was, take a drink, swallow in an obvious way, then show the inside with a visibly lower liquid level. He held out his hands in a sort of entreaty.

"See? Ginger. The only thing I added was some raw mesquite honey."

She grudgingly sipped, then gulped down what became an elixir, soothing its way down her throat. _Ah, Licorice, Anise… mmmmm_ she was feeling better already.

"Now, do you want to tell me what's going on?"His voice and demeanor took on a kindly patronizing tone, like he was a teacher who caught his favorite pupil being naughty. The man had a penchant for superiority.

"This summer, you send officious correspondence, renouncing my choices, forcing me to make dozens of changes, researching them in the middle of nowhere. Yet you clearly expect me to respond expeditiously and berate me when I don't. Last night you were a little scary, quite frankly, the way you…"

Lizzy couldn't articulate the frightfully wondrous way he was "…the way you knew who I was but you didn't have the decency to have a real conversation about it. And then you call this town artistically remote. Finally you interrogated me in front of everyone today. Actually you interrogated all of us but Bingley. Do you do this all the time? Because whatever it is…."She gestured in a circle with the cup still in hand and run out of words.

"I told you it's only herbal tea and honey," his expression teasing. "I guess I should have given you chamomile- more calming."

"You know what I mean!"

"Well first of all, I wasn't briefed on the whereabouts or communication option of each production member so how was I to know? As for today, I was commenting on the arts complex's design as being artistically remote, which you'd have realized had you not been eavesdropping. Secondly, you and the rest are a professional as am I, and I was merely inquiring about details of interest to the production at the meeting. I already knew Bingley's work, hence the lack of questioning him. Maeve sent me some intriguing sketches of yours and I had ideas on how to integrate our designs, but you wouldn't hear me out! You kept interrupting because apparently you interpreted my questions as interrogations."

"Me? You were a bit overbearing. What was I supposed to do?"

He plowed through. "I admit, I heard about you, believe me, Charles said a lot, but not about the Bennet sister you presume. I heard about Jane from the time he started research on Longbourn until- well, frankly he hasn't stopped yet. He honestly didn't say where he learned about her. And they've only seen each other in person a couple of times. His only mention of Jane AND her sister is that they both sew. Suitably vague for one so besotted, don't you think?

How was I to know the E. Bennet on my Production Crew list was the very Lizzy standing before me, the one whose sister has enchanted my friend almost as much as you've done to me?…You must admit, Elizabeth is a common name, even in a town of 75, 000 people- plus the more than million people over in El Paso and Juarez and any other visiting artists would increase odds exponentially. Unlike Charles, I was a bit consumed with other matters and had no chance to do such thorough research on the cast and crew. An action I am beginning to regret more and more as this conversation continues."

Lizzy recovered a semblance of steadiness. "Again, you know what I mean- not just that. You KNOW, or so you said last night."

"Well of course I know about the woman who… never mind. When I said that, I had other references in mind. If you don't believe me about theatre you certainly won't believe me about matters of more consequence. I guess I thought it would be easier to talk to you." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation.

She gave him a piercing look. "What do you mean, easier? You're so patronizing."

His eyes grew hard for a moment, as if she triggered something at such an accusation. "That's not it at all. I really hoped when we met you would just know." As he spoke those words, a breeze blew past them and they heard distant chimes.

Lizzy supposed it was the door to the shop but Will knew otherwise, especially with that familiar copal scent. His eyes grew wide. He quickly straightened, tone pleasantly polite, and almost whispered, "I wish I could undo whatever it was that caused you to think ill…"

"I think you should stop talking now, my head's hurting. I'm so confused." She interrupted him, not wanting to know what he wanted to undo. Her feelings were frayed from want of his comfort, but she quickly pushed that wholly unacceptable feeling down and righted herself. "I really have to get back to the shop. Maeve is expecting me."

"Miss Bennet. I want you to know that regardless of what you think, I respect you- artistically, and as a person. I look forward to getting to know you better, and to our collaboration. I hate to have caused you pain. Believe me; I will make every effort to….."He didn't finish his sentence as he opened the door. At first he held it open but Lizzy remained in a daze, unresponsive. So he just nodded and left. She remained sitting on the stool and staring at the wall, unseeing.

Lizzy willed herself to maintain this posture. She couldn't afford to be distracted for her first mainstage show. Not even by him. As soon as she heard his steps fade, she crumpled. Somehow, Lizzy pushed through to the ladies room again, washed off her face with cold water, gathered herself, and returned to the shop. _The show must go on, after all, and so must I._

It would be an understatement to say that Maeve gave Lizzy an earful. She filled her in on every last detail of the visiting artists. If she didn't know any better, Lizzy would say that Maeve was the one behind the Bennet sisters getting some action with 2 particular visiting artists, they way she talked them up. There was something in the words she didn't say.

Maeve thought Lizzy didn't see her place a chocolate on that sparkly shelf above her desk, but Lizzy did. Maeve even touched one of the photographs lightly, reverently, when she thought Lizzy was absorbed with abundant visual references from said visiting artists. Later, Lizzy went up to see the picture was a tintype of a dark woman with hauntingly familiar chocolate eyes. Lizzy felt stared at. It freaked her out so she hurried out of the shop.

*Valmont: imdb dot com /title/tt0098575/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1

Like Dangerous Liaisons but w/ COLIN FIRTH!

*Yogi www dot yogiproducts dot com /our-philosophy/our-story/

The tea has different inspirational statements on each tea tag


	5. Chapter 5

I'd love more review love-

shout out to loveinthebattlefield who has loyally reviewed.

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Again, if anyone is interested in helping beta, PM me.

Final tweaking is my own.

We finally meet the rest of the Bennet clan. I changed Lydia to Lydon, because I don't think having a son or not is the issue now that it was in regency time and you will see why I made this decision soon enough.

Lydon- the youngest Bennet, Rodeo King and all around pain in the $$ to his sisters

Wickham

Kitty Bennet- Bennet sister, budding Fair Queen

Mary Bennet- Bennet sister, botanist and budding farmer extrordanaire

Francesca Bennet- ODG's mother

Edward Bennet- ODG's dad

Jane Bennet- ODG2

* * *

Chapter 8: Ingratiation

After a long day, Lizzy dragged herself home to find an impromptu dinner gathering. The family was actually sitting at the table and it wasn't a holiday. All together. Eating and talking. Then Lizzy saw him. He had a part in the oddity of a Bennet family dinner. There was Wickham, sitting between Lydon and mom, charming mom and laughing uproariously at Lydon's stupid jokes. Had she flown into the twilight zone instead of El Paso International Airport?

And the food smelled unearthly. Her stomach had finally settled and she was ravenous. Lizzy grabbed a plate, helping herself to the amazing dinner- it was as if someone catered the old stand bys of their table: the family recipe of eggplant casserole was upgraded with green chiles and had a mixture of cheeses. Dad NEVER allowed their grassfed Angus Beefalo to be covered in any sauce. This time someone had tampered with this roast, because the gravy was thick and smoky, unlike mom had ever made- with a side of horseradish- didn't dad hate horseradish? He was shoveling it down. The asparagus, likely frozen from what they picked off the ditches this spring, was cooked to perfection. Even Grandmama's sacred cloverleaf roll recipe had been made into whole grain delights- healthier- still delicious.

Only then did Lizzy notice how, upon seeing her, excepting Dad and Jane, the family was rather nonplussed by her presence after three months, but, whatever. Lizzy reminded herself that she'd not exactly burst in with joyous greetings of her own- too intent upon eating was she.

"Wickham! I should have recognized your signature embellishments. I take it you're to thank for this gorgeous food?"

"And to thank for bringing your treasures home, safe and sound- until Lydon got hold of things! Come to think of it, better check your belongings, Lizzy!" At that, he and Lydon creeped her out.

Her brother was quick to jump in, "Seriously Lizzy, what would I want with your stupid things? They're fine- geez! I was real careful with them when I got the out of the UHaul. Wickham came with me even to help me load them in and out. That's how we got to be friends. Anyway, go and check on them now, if you can stop gorging yourself! Mom's right, maybe you should watch your figure a little more closely."

"Lydon! What a thing to say! I'll have you know many of Lambton's visitors quite admired Lizzy's figure and she refused them all, the tease!" Here was Wickham, backhandedly coming to Lizzy's defense, seeming gallant when he and she both knew he'd been one of those admirers she'd rebuffed.

Mother ate up the gossip and chastised Lizzy for not taking the chance to get to know someone famous. Why else was she in Theatre after all? Lydon was actually influenced by Wickham, as, for the first time since she didn't know when, Lydon apologized.

Dad finally spoke up. "Well, well, Lizzy, have you any other new friends to introduce? We've already got one to improve Lydon's behavior and cook; perhaps another will do our laundry and improve your mother?"

After this, the family seemed to have made a mutual agreement to stop wasting the food on discussion. Their discourse didn't resume in earnest until Lydon cleared the table, shocking everyone present, while Wickham set out his coup de grace- an improvement on the family recipe of peach cobbler. As everyone tucked in to the brandy laced delight, Dad remarked, "you kids are free to bring home any friends if they are like ol' Wickham here."

Wickham piped in again: "Speaking of friends, I hear an ex friend of mine is at the Theatre, here- William Darcy. You must remember my stories about my old friends who abandoned me! Have you met him, Lizzy and Jane? I'm sure the experience would be… unforgettable. Try as you might to forget. The man is an utter, fixture, I'm afraid. From an artistic family, and he's the most boring of the lot, which is a big accomplishment, since he's also crazy. The stories I could tell of that illustrious family. They call it theatre for a reason."

Not being one who was interested in such gossip, Dad took the cue to grab his dessert and escape to his study. Lizzy knew he'd ask later, in earnest, for the facts. Lizzy wanted to follow and have the discussion right away, but found herself glued to the seat, transfixed by what she should know to be slander out of this interloper's mouth. She could say nothing, however.

Jane, her usual sphinx-like self, was similarly silent. Mother, Wickham's newest admirer, asked for more details. She'd never been interested in Theatre when Lizzy and Jane talked about it, but then they weren't prone to gossip. Of course, rather than discuss the family's occupation, of which Lizzy had never known and was far more interested, he proceeded to discuss more of his pet subject for the night.

Wickham went on to retell his many injuries at the hands of one Mr. Darcy. After hearing them this summer, Lizzy still didn't know what to think. Especially now that she'd met the man who 'wronged' him. Darcy was haughty and rude, but he wasn't without feeling or principle- she knew that much. _Wait, is this me thinking these thoughts?_ _Didn't I just accuse the man of being like Valmont and using me?_

Even having been acquainted with him since June, Lizzy didn't think she really knew Wickham. Inevitably, he'd sabotaged every hope she'd had that they could even be friends. Now she was left having feelings of discomfort around him. She was still unsure if he was in a relationship as he acted so oddly towards her, as well as a number of men and women in Lambton.

Ordinarily she'd consider it none of her business and that didn't necessarily have to do with whether he was a good person or not. But Wickham also showed excessive attention to her baby brother. It eerily reminded Lizzy of his attentions to her and to the people he stayed the night with when in Lambton. She pushed this out of her mind as unthinkable and focused on his derision of Darcy.

"Wickham, you've been around me enough to know I laugh when you're funny but right now you're being a complete bore. Whatever Darcy is, if you're no longer friends and he's so odd, why would you care about what he's doing now?"

Wickham became serious. "I like you and from what I know of your family" He looked at Lydon. "I like them very well, too. I wanted to give you all fair warning about a man who is not to be trifled with. He could ruin your career Lizzy Jane, like he did mine, all because I stood up to him. One word from him and people don't hire you, won't even look at you. Lifelong friends will side with him. He thinks that a friend is someone who gives him his way- a friend, to him isn't a person but a possession. He never lets go of his possessions willingly because he's delusional. Darcy stayed summers at 'special retreats' because he was so cracked he couldn't endure being a normal teenager. His parents never saw how dangerous he was and coddled him, calling him an artistic visionary. He's quite successful with ladies using his mystical artist shtick. Anyone can read people; I call it immoral to act like it is gift and use it to manipulate them."

All color drained from her face and Lizzy's body went cold. This was all too easy for Lizzy to imagine- Darcy's passions seemed to turn on a moment, and he did seem to take _possession_ with a visionary force.

Jane noticed her expression change. The two elder sisters silently communicated while everyone else was eating. Lydon's usual annoying eagerness for attention saved Lizzy from anyone else's notice. Not that his eagerness was a good thing in this case. "Well he sounds really interesting to me! I think it would be fun to mess with him- you know, stand outside his window and 'haunt' him or something. I bet you could come up with something good for laughs, Wicked"

 _Great. Lydon even had a ridiculous nickname for the man_. Lizzy would have nicknamed him Weirdo. _It wasn't a good weird either. Maybe Wicked was more appropriate, if metalhead* sounding. Or new goth._ She sometimes got them confused. Lizzy was amusing herself by the digression, her characteristic sense of humor saving Lizzy from a tableside panic attack.

"Well, sounds like fun, Lydon, but I have to keep a distance from the man if you know what I mean." She was pretty sure that Lydon didn't know what Wickham meant.

Jane and Lizzy looked at each other again. She knew Jane well enough; Jane was wondering about this man's past too. Lizzy wondered what Jane knew of Darcy's back story. Was she too besotted with Charles to venture into such tangents? Lizzy didn't get a chance to talk to Dad that night, nor did she get a chance to debrief the summer or other things with her Jane. She made a mental note to do it later. Her attention was pulled in a billion different directions and at least took a favorable turn.

* * *

Aunt Phil and Uncle D came to the door, were summarily greeted, offered repast, sat down to eat, made small talk, and finished the meal. Aunt Phil was clearly bursting to tell Lizzy of her newest find. She hustled Uncle D out to the car and he brought in a large nondescript tote. Aunt Phil opened it with a flourish of dust and bid her look inside.

Amidst a few insect carcasses and cobwebs was an unimaginable quantity of jet seed and other beaded strands in mint condition, along with other embellishments. Her donation to Longbourn! Lizzy was thrilled. It was perfect for one of the design problems that Darcy had testily questioned her about earlier today. He reminded Lizzy they'd discussed the Grand Dame, Lady C to be perpetually in mourning clothes and asked what she planned, other than the requisite bombazine.*

Darcy had shown appropriately mournful, yet baroquely detailed backdrops he proposed for Lady C's grand estate. The director obsequiously praised Darcy's vision and challenged Lizzy to come up with something complimentary for the costumes. When Lizzy reviewed 'to do' lists with Maeve later in the shop, she sided with them. Lizzy had to stop being a wuss, she said. Costume Shop Babes had balls, she said. _What about the part where we stood up for our own ideas?_ Lizzy wondered at the time.

Well, now here came reinforcements, inspiring Lizzy with this funereal bolt from the blue. She'd never been so glad to see Aunt Phil. Except for that time she'd brought some Nudie* boots in Lizzy's size, or last Christmas when she inherited one of her biggest Turquoise cuffs*.

But really, Aunt Phil had been her biggest fan since she taught Lizzy to sew as a young girl, back when Mama had disowned Aunt Phil about the Farm inheritance. Lizzie told Mama she was going to a 4-H project after school with Charlotte when really she was walking over to Aunt Phil's store.

Thank goodness she was honest-eventually- and Aunt Phil and Mama patched things up. Of course it came about because Lizzy made sure to sell the benefits of her sewing skills- such as making Fair Queen costumes which normally cost an arm and a leg. Of course Mama 'let' her sew as long as she sewed for the family, too. While this agreement was like a bargain with a she- devil given the scope of Mama's projects, Aunt Phil was unconditional in her support and she shared a great deal of Lizzy's confidences. And of course it went a long way to win back her sister's favor when Aunt Phil liberally bestowed treasures upon the Bennet nieces and nephew.

Material things aside, Aunt Phil was her first and most loved mentor, and she was dying to know more about Mr Fancy pants. She took the hint when Lizzy gave her a warning expression; Aunt Phil said nothing more on the subject. They busied themselves poring over the period regalia.

Jane disappeared, no doubt to call a certain someone. The others, bored by old stuff, also went their separate ways after their curiosity about what was in the bin had been satisfied. Concerned of who might overhear, Lizzy contented herself with one of her favorite activities- talking about vintage and sewing with Aunt Phil until Uncle D started prodding her that it was late and they needed to go.

Already exhausted from the past 24 hours' events, Lizzy fell into bed after the guests left.

* * *

The next few days were spent in a buzz of ideas, plans, creating, schoolwork, and, when she could get it, stolen moments talking with Jane. Lizzy had tried to gain intelligence about Jane's summer, but gained only apologies at not writing and redirected conversation. If that was how her sister wanted to deal with things for now, so be it. She allowed Jane to keep her own counsel about Bingley.

The black belt used her tactics effecting Lizzy to open up, however. Usually the sisters were in the shop and it was late one evening when Jane questioned her sister. In bits and pieces Lizzy told Jane some of her 'encounter' but not all. Jane offered unequivocal support in favor of Lizzy furthering her relationship with Darcy. Lizzy imagined she needed to tell Jane the whole story. But with the odd volunteer and even Maeve about, Lizzy couldn't very well discuss certain goings on regarding That Man. She wasn't avoiding things.

She just didn't want Maeve to know the extent of things. Her Costume Design Mentor was practically pushing Lizzy and Jane together with certain visiting artists. Maeve was clearly biased. What if she even liked Darcy better than her? If things didn't work out it could prove exceedingly difficult to continue learning how to craft clothing and accouterments from the woman.

After Cole dashed the Plan A of moving to New York and moving up in the garment industry there, it had taken time- and being on The Mountain this summer- to finally instill a certainty in her Plan. No, Lizzy didn't want to consider a Plan C. She could not, would not complicate things by confiding in Maeve.

Jane didn't see any reason to hide _her_ goings on from Maeve. After all, Jane only saw her at work. Lizzy saw Maeve at work AND school, practically all the time. Not that Jane could hide it. Bingley came by the shop on some excuse multiple times during the day. If they couldn't get away, he'd bring them lunch or dinner. Usually he and Jane would eat at the bench out back privately laughing and sharing their food.

Lizzy had tried to glean information from Jane about her feelings. Jane opened up as much as Jane was honest with herself. It was clear to Lizzy that Jane was still guarding her heart. At least when he showed up in the shop, Bingley was everything affable, often praising Lizzy's work, admiring what she was doing, even if she had to scrap her work later due to a _certain_ man's interference in designs. Bingley agreed to everything and denied nothing. Lizzy could see why Jane liked him. He was easy to like, even if he kept Jane from being accessable to Lizzy for confiding in, damn them. Lizzy couldn't be mad. Jane deserved her happiness.

* * *

For as much as she was determined to focus her energies on school and the production, not to mention Mama's latest projects, Lizzy didn't know why she kept thinking about That Man. He seemed always in the shadows, ever since that first day. He still gave feedback about changes in her work, and everyone's but it took a less officious tone. He asked more questions and was more liberal in his praises, when deserved.

Yet, he evaded direct contact with her, which elicited more desire on her part to have said unexpected contact. She craved it, and warred with herself. Contact would lead to other things that would risk the production, Maeve's good will, and most importantly her heart. How could it be that he stirred her heart?

Lizzy expressed these thoughts as best she could to Jane without telling her 'the secret' of that first meeting with Darcy. Jane just looked at Lizzy like she'd grown horns and told Lizzy that she expected her sister to act like an adult and keep an open mind about people. Lizzy wondered if Jane would be so open minded if she knew 'the secret'. Lizzy had no room for doubt.

He was the bad guy, right? He seduced her as part of some kind of scenario. Going to dinner with him would either mean tolerating his arrogance or, worse, he would pull some trick again to make her like him more. What was that about?

If Darcy really was the good guy, then she was the ass and she really screwed things up. Why was she spending so much time preoccupied with him? She even realized today, after the umpteenth time going to the restroom, she was really just looking around, anticipating she'd see him. Unbelievable.

She decided it was high time to redirect her energies. When Lizzy needed inspiration, she'd find some female artist to emulate; that always inspired her to get focused. She considered the Authoress of the Play Herself, but figured it would only serve to make her think more of Him and not less.

Hearkening back to discussions with The Tailor, Lizzy rifled through the extensive Costume Shop CD collection of female artists (many of which she had contributed, herself), and decided to put on some Josephine Baker. For good measure, Lizzy went through the artificial flowers and ribbons, fashioning herself some semblance of Mexican folk hair ornamentation. She took out her makeup bag and penciled in her eyebrows more heavily but drew the line at filling in the center. While she'd never like women in the way Frida and Josephine did, by getting herself in such a mood, she was able to feel a little more again like she had no need for this man, any man.

It got her back into the task at hand. She worked long into the night to finish all the night clothes for the production. They were simple pieces to bang out and, surely, He hadn't deigned to change them yet, even after all the notes, why on earth would he do so now? She mentally dared him to do it. She was prepared. Tomorrow she'd wear her huilpil dress. And eyebrows. She needed eyebrows.

*Metalhead- one who listens to heavy metal music.

*Bombazine and Jet- used in mourning in earlier eras

www dot

*Nudie- NOT the hipster brand. Nudie was a really cool Nashville designer who made awesome costumes for a lot of country western music stars. Nudie boots are the bomb

www dot /gallery_fashions01 dot html

*Turquoise cuffs: www jewelrynavajo dot com/Bracelets/?page=11

*Josephine Baker and Frida Kahlo had an affair

* * *

Chapter 9: As long as somebody takes me

When they'd had lunch together in El Paso before the listening listening party, Jane, Charles, Richard, Char and Darcy had decided dinner date was in order for the New Mexican food Charles raved about. Lizzy had gone through a roller coaster of feelings about the 'date', but couldn't bring herself to call it off.

With universal encouragement (coercion) on the part of Jane and Char, Lizzy determined she wouldn't be sabotage others' plans for amorous bliss. Anyway, in a final bid to avoid Him, Lizzy protested to her sister and Char she couldn't go on the date due to her professional conflict of interest.

Both her supposedly loyal sister and friend saw no reason that she couldn't go out with the temporary faculty seeing as how they were equals in the same production. Maeve had looked pointedly at Lizzy and commented that visiting faculty and student artists were equals and didn't have any barriers for a relationship. Really, they had no consideration for her nerves. Or her artistic career. _Damn them, It had better be worth it._

Lizzy was wondering if That Man could give her any intelligence about Wickham. It had been several days and nothing had happened to her family in the way of conquests or uncharacteristic behavior. She argued to herself that nothing had happened and of course nothing would.

But maybe she did need to get Darcy's point of view on the situation. No, that would bring up a decidedly uncomfortable topic. Tonight she would just observe Darcy. He was annoyingly fun to observe. Her agenda was settled.

With her beau having time off, Char announced they would spend as much quality time together as possible, thus leaving Jane, Lizzy and the others in charge of their own rides. Char's scheme worked out conveniently for Jane, who had hours to work at the shop and Charles planned his schedule accordingly, likewise spending his afternoon at Longbourn Theatre Company and arranging to take her to dinner from there.

Lizzy had different hours than Jane that day, having started in the shop early, after much needed art studio time, then, back home to clean up and change for the dreaded evening.

Darcy, too, had to clean up before dinner. Backdrop painting was always a splattered, whole body process. Since Netherfield was near the Gardiner-Bennet Farm, it made sense that Darcy should pick Lizzy up.

When he arrived, Lizzy was too embarrassed to take note of the car's occupants because Francesca had bustled out the car, affecting a larger than life down- home accent, saying embarrassing things about the Mercedes and asking about its owner and his career. Lizzy simply got in the car and firmly told her mother they had to be going, much to the relief of the car's other two occupants. It was with great surprise that Lizzy found not only Darcy, but also an unfamiliar- if overdressed- creature, arriving in Darcy's vehicle.

Quirking her eyebrows, Lizzy was about to speak when the creature introduced herself. Lizzy replied in kind, amused at the woman's range of expression, which managed to affect condescension despite the Botox injections.

Caroline continued, "That outfit is really unique. Where ever did you find those pieces? I mean, I don't care what men think, either, I am all for BoHo Chic. You must tell me where you get your quirky things so I can live like the natives."

Lizzy had to keep a straight face, responding "I'm surprised: I didn't realize you were the type of artist to wear other people's old things! I thought you were more the Urban Outfitters type? Anyway, I'd be happy to take you to my aunt's junque shop if you like. I'm sure she'd give you a starving artist discount, since you have that boHO look."

There was a flash in the overhead mirror, a telltale sign to Lizzy that Darcy had adjusted it. She watched with intrigue as his eyes ranged over her, first at the skinny jeans that did amazing things to her legs, then upward to the peasant blouse with delicate flowers that accented her hourglass figure. He could see her body through the sheer fabric in the moments when the light shone just right and it displayed her décolletage from time to time.

"Something wrong with your mirror? Or with my shirt?" In the mirror her sparkling eyes met his.

She noticed with self satisfaction that his eyes now bore a sheepish expression. "No everything is perfect, especially your shirt."

"Well, be careful with your mirrors- don't have an accident!" Their eyes met again in the mirror.

"Yes, William, these backwoods can be deceitful." Caroline looked back meaningfully at Lizzy.

"I think you mean deceiving." Lizzy finally recognized Caroline's name and found it astounding that such well constructed, detailed art could be made by the creature before her Lizzy would not be intimidated, even by someone as preeminent as this.

"Oh, how useful! You know how to dress and you're an expert at the English language!" Darcy ventured a glance at Caroline as she said this, unable to hide the slight grimace from Lizzy.

Again they shared a moment in the rearview mirror. Darcy tore his eyes away from her to concentrate on the road while silently talking to himself, his lips unwittingly moving, something which Lizzy found quirky and charming despite herself.

* * *

When they arrived at the restaurant, Caroline maneuvered to sit next to Darcy. "Actually Caroline, I remember your brother saying he had to talk to you about our studio arrangements. You know, he's been so occupied that he has to fit it in some time- what better time than now?" Caroline assumed an affected, businesslike posture and obediently sat by her brother.

Darcy sat next to Lizzy. _Conspiracy!_ Lizzy inwardly grumbled. Her thoughts were redirected by the sensation of his body next to hers. The ticklish static feeling to her right reminded Lizzy of movement class when the instructor told them to rub their hands together then hold them, palms slightly apart. The instructor had told them it was the feeling of energy.

Darcy took off his leather to reveal a thin Lou Reed shirt. Lizzy noticed he had more tattoos than the band on both biceps and a necklace peeked from under his shirt. She thought about getting his shirt off…. to see the tattoos and necklace better. _It had been too dark before_ , she joked to herself. He also had on a pair of well worn, classic cowboy boots. And, those dark jeans nicely showed him off. By the looks of things, he seemed quite virile. _He certainly felt virile the other night_ , Lizzy couldn't help but remember. She blushed

"Is there something wrong with my jeans?"

Infuriatingly for Lizzy, she blushed more deeply. She'd been caught. "No, nothing at all. They are very…. Nice. Red Lines*?" She concentrated on her glass of water.

"Nice. For a Costume Major that is very original. And yes, you have a good eye. In fact they are Red Lines. 1970's I seem to recall the tag saying."

With characteristic good timing, Bingley offered to buy the group a round of Negro Modelos*. Caroline politely declined ( _maybe it wasn't artsy enough beer_ , Lizzy mused), while the rest drank beer and ate chips and salsa.

At others' urging that she try the salsa, Caroline dipped a chip in. Being able to take the heat was an established more of New Mexican culture, and Caroline didn't want to seem like a wimp to Darcy. Everyone had to hold back a laugh as she tried to act nonchalant after she took her first bite and tears streamed down her face. She delicately excused herself from the table.

While Caroline continued to try to nonchalantly get Darcy's attention, the party reveled in conversation while enjoying the beer, chips and salsa. When the food hadn't arrived, Bingley ordered another round while still nursing his first drink. Lizzy, Bingley and Jane seemed quite tipsy. The food finally came and the crowd ordered another beer to go with the food. And apparently this tipsy Charles was also a very affectionate, as he draped himself over Jane, who didn't seem to mind being nearly suffocated in the least.

Caroline still had no alcohol, as there were no favorable selections of beer or wine on the menu. As they waited, Caroline received call from her agent at this, most inconvenient time. Lizzy supposed by her oddly placed facial creases that Caroline was irritated but, it was really hard to tell. Lizzy thought she saw a smug look flicker on Charles's face and noticed that Darcy had looked pointedly at his friend when Caroline's call came in. She supposed Charles had intervened somehow. Caroline's call took over of a half hour leaving the others to enjoy themselves.

A lightweight, the two beers diminished Lizzy's inhibitions, resulting in her flirting outrageously with Darcy. As Lizzy told stories of her theatre experiences, she would occasionally lock eyes with Darcy, brush his arm with her fingertips, or touch his knee with her knee. She wasn't too tipsy to notice his nostrils flare like a bull's when a flag is waved in front of it. She even leaned toward him a few times and could feel him lightly lean back.

*Red Lines-vintage (or reproduction vintage) Levis with the characteristic red line selvedge edge on the outer seam so when you cuff the hem the red line shows, enhancing one's coolness factor for anyone who knows vintage Levi's. The market topped out in the late 90s when Japanese investors were buying them. They'd wear 2 at a time at the height of the craze. They still have a higher price than regular Levi's.

*Negro Modelo- delicious Mexican beer that enhances one's enjoyment of New Mexican cuisine, if one drinks alcohol.

* * *

Chapter 9: Who's acting?

When the dinner came to an end, Charles slurred, "Hey Caroline, need your help…. You drive my car home! We can drop off Jane first, I know how to get there, on the way." Clearly Caroline was stuck as Bingley was in no state to drive. Lizzy couldn't imagine how Caroline driving them home could further Charles's suit with Jane, but so be it. Then, Lizzy saw Bingley clearly wink at her and Darcy on their way out, after Jane and his sister had turned to leave. She giggled.

"Elizabeth, could you use some coffee?"

She perked up "Sounds great! I'm too f*ed up to go home like this. Mom would totally have a fit. I hate it when she has her fits." At this play on words Lizzy giggled then her face became serious. She plopped down in the seat next to Darcy.

He turned on the car and his Ipod which happened to be playing the Cult's The Witch*. This had the effect of changing her mood and attention again. Lizzy sang while gyrating to the beat; the song was a clear favorite.

Her breasts were more exposed, as she was now a little past caring whether the scoopnecked shirt was properly in place- the breeze felt good. Whoa, and Whee punctuated her singing each time Darcy veering dangerously. She didn't notice how he had a difficult time keeping his eyes on the road. The next track Fire Woman played and she sang along with it "Fi-i-r-r-r-r-re, smoke she is a rising! Darcy, did you know I once swallowed fire? I did it for a demonstration."

"Do you often make it a habit of playing with fire, Miss Bennet?"

Between continuing to sing and gyrate Lizzy managed to respond; "I think you're talking about relationships, not fire, Mr. Darcy! For your information, no, I don't make it a habit- I got burned one too many times and it won't happen again! Ever! She paused. You! You are very, very, very, very, hot. But I have to consider my future. I don't need you messing it up." Lizzy turned to him, an accusing finger lingeringly touching his chest.

Somehow Darcy had found a coffee shop without any help from Lizzy. He parked the car and let it idle, keeping the heater and music on. "You are quite … fiery yourself. You better be careful, because it is quite warm in here."

"Well, then maybe I could get you to take your shirt off and show me your tattoos and that necklace. They are innn-teresssting."

He obliged, showing her the work- with said shirt on. He first took out the necklace, a hammered silver half heart, it surface rather primitively etched with a stunning woman's face in profile. The face was eerily familiar to Lizzy but she couldn't say why. "That's my mother. I made it when she passed. The other half is me and my brother in profile and it was put on her before she was laid to rest".

"Oh!" Lizzy's eyes teared up. "I'm sorry. How exquisite it is, how beautiful you made it for her." Reaching out, Lizzy held the pendant, placing it gently back on his chest, letting her hand linger over his heart. While the slight inebriation had enabled her to be more flirtatious, it also served to heighten her awareness of Darcy and she noticed him shift uncomfortably. When she looked down, the reason was obvious. She couldn't help but stare until he coughed a little, looking meaningfully at her.

He rolled up his sleeves to better reveal his smooth muscled arms. "This is my tribal band and it says Nada Es Permanente* under the plumed skull designs. Here is the sun above it, and the moon on the other side."

Again Lizzy touched him- this time she lightly caressed his arms where his tattoos were. "I like that." She was leaning so close. "What is the story?"

"It means nothing is permanent- I got it after my mother passed." Darcy straightened up, abruptly rolling his sleeves back down and put on his blazer. "Shall we have some coffee Ms. Bennet? Allow me. I insist." Darcy opened the car door for her. Again he noticed her breasts and could see now that what underpinnings she wore beneath the blouse were inadequate to disguise her hard, pink tips, all the more obvious by the way she was holding her arms from the cold. Tearing his eyes away, he floundered, "You must be cold, would you like my jacket?" She declined, retrieved a sizeable floral and paisley scarf, wrapping it around herself several times as they walked toward the shop.

They ordered coffee and flan*, and sat quietly eating and drinking. The pert look in her eyes reappeared; replacing the more open, almost brazen look they previously bore. "Mr Darcy you have me at a disadvantage. I told you stories and shamelessly flirted with you all evening. Now that I am a little more sober I can say I'm quite embarrassed. I apologize for my behavior."

"You have nothing for which to apologize. I quite enjoy you whatever the circumstances, you must know." He blushed and shifted, showing a sudden interest in the contents of his coffee mug. His tense posture indicated he was about to speak but seeming minutes went by with no words.

Lightly, she said, "I have done a lot of talking. I am quite ready to listen. Tell me about yourself."

"What would you like to know?" Darcy countered, more than asked.

Her brows knit, but kept her smile, "Anything. Tell me a story. About your childhood perhaps."

He blanched. Lizzy wondered why. "I can't think of anything, I doubt you want to hear anything I would want to say at the moment."

"Do you have something to hide, Fitzwilliam Darcy?" Her eyes glittered in challenge.

His posture became tense and he bowed his head considering something for a moment. "No, Ms. Bennet, I find myself at a loss for words, but not because I am hiding- from you or anyone."

"Even Caroline?"

He searched for words. "Well, sometimes from Caroline, but that's irrelevant at the moment. I'm always reserved in a new environment. Dona Maria is totally different from Santa Fe-it's like they aren't even in the same state. I'm out of my element there, but at least it's familiar. My only friends here are Charles and Richard-and Maeve I suppose. There are few people with whom I feel totally comfortable. And still fewer with whom I am comfortable to share my innermost thoughts."

"What about me?" She whispered.

"What about you?" He countered.

She leaned a little closer. "Are you comfortable with me?"

Darcy's face burned, as Lizzy leaned even closer, again revealing much of her creamy chest. He looked decidedly away from her. He fingered the pendant as he spoke. "Well, we've talked about this before- what I feel for you is more than what I normally feel for other artists with whom I work. More than professional respect. I'd like to know you more. More than anyone in a long time. Something about you has engaged me with ideas, recollections. You are vastly superior to the woman I thought I would someday meet. But you've shown me that you aren't comfortable knowing the truth, so I can't say anymore. I won't push. You know what I would very much like, but I won't say it again, not now."

Tonight was not the time for Lizzy to ask about the subject of his ideas or recollections. She must yet protect herself from the origin of those thoughts, if the palpable tension projecting from him was any indication. Perhaps Wickham was right about the mad visionary thing. But she wasn't content with his continued vagaries.

Lizzy rolled her eyes, pursing her lips. All night Darcy stared at her, he flirted, to be sure- it was obvious there was physical attraction. But when she attempted to draw him out, the man reverted to cryptic answers. The more Lizzy thought about his behavior, the more irritated she became.

"You just keep talking in eloquent nonsense when it gets personal, but you have no problem with your words or ideas if it's to criticize. You had no problem with showing me positive reinforcement, as you called it, that other night, when it was sexual. And yet, you fascinate me. I must hate myself to want so badly to know someone who clearly looks at my work only to criticize. How can I want you when you don't respect my work?" She immediately gasped, surprised she'd spoken so frankly. She hadn't meant to tell him that.

Darcy became more reserved as he carefully considered the woman in front of him. "The fact is we both were interested in other things that night that transcend a role. We may have our disagreements about production details but I appreciate your input. You are talented and as the designer of this show, a professional. I think its disingenuous for us to act like we can't be equals here (pointing to his and her hearts) when you take every opportunity to remind me. I remain your equal, regardless of the role. If you were truly honest with yourself, you'd acknowledge the positive reinforcements I've given about your work. You have only to open your eyes to see that. You are the only one that can decide where your talent takes you, and where we go. Don't put that on me alone because you know it's not just mine".

Her eyes flashed, insulted that he hadn't apologized for his heavy handed criticisms. She hadn't meant to dig for compliments but, dammit, it felt like she was after he stopped so short of anything positive to say except to hint at his attraction and that he liked her a lot. "Well, as your colleague, I think it's been a late night and I need to get back home so I'll be ready for more production challenges tomorrow. I think I've had enough."

Darcy obliged and they left the coffee house. Her mind was whirring with her own supreme hypocrisy in her continued state of erotic excitement at the dangerous prospect driving next to her.

* link to the music: The Witch

www dot youtube dot com/watch?v=TnyxEz4l70Q

Fire Woman

www dot youtube dot com/watch?v=ZHNiYIvt7ag

*flan- custardy caramely delightful Mexican dessert

*Nada Es Permanente- Nothing is Permanent.

* tattoo example: www dot ratemyink dot com/images/ul/462/Mayan-Serpent-tattoo-46217 dot jpeg

* * *

The evening isn't *quite* over, yet. If someone new sends me a kind review I will post the rest of the evening, and probably a little more, this weekend.

Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Thank you everyone for the reviews! Here is the continuation to our evening, plus a little more.

Reviews give me energy to post more and I might be persuaded to post mid week if I get more.

From here on out there should not be too many one off characters and they ought to only have one name so hopefully it is less confusing.

I don't think we have any unknown characters in the next few chapters. Mostly ODC goodness.

Again, if you have questions to my obscure references, let me know and I will either give more info or will put a link for more info or a picture or song.

* * *

Chapter 10: Actions behind the words

The drive back home was tense until Darcy attempted to ease it. "I did the best I could to make up for my initial mistake, considering my lack of social skill in unfamiliar circumstances. I want to tell you again, if I, in some way, offended or belittled you, it was unconsciously done. You said yourself it affected you so much. You know there is more to it than offense. I am interesting to you. You interest me. I'd like to spend more time together- If I don't get in the way of whatever you said I'm in the way of. You have my word that I am a man of principle, an honorable man. I respect your space, what you want. I am as good as my word."

The repair went a little way in Elizabeth's mind but his lack of real explanation at his interest still unsettled her. Could the man not just speak plainly and say what he liked about her? Then she'd know the nature of his respect.

For now she decided not to leave things in conflict, at _least for the sake of the production,_ she told herself. "OK. I'll take you at your word. Ha, that's an ironic thing for me to say,  Will. But let's just see how things go with the production for now, hmm? Anyway, thanks for the coffee. Now my crazy mom won't yell at me for coming home tipsy."

"Were it my mother, I'd be glad she was around, no matter how crazy." His voice was strangely wistful.

"I feel like I should apologize for taking her for granted even though you called my mother crazy." Her tone had an edge that he couldn't mistake.

"You're right. I used the wrong words again- I meant- well, anyway, like I said, I haven't ever been good saying what I mean with strangers." He bowed his head, shaking it a little.

"You know, Jane was always the one who did everything right in my family. I used to think that I just wasn't good at things. I was jealous until I realized: Jane won all the blue ribbons because she took time to do things well. She practiced. I now know if I want to become good at something, I have to practice. Practice, Mr Darcy."

Lizzy was quite done with the evening's many unexpected turns and wanted to be done with it, needed space away from his presence. It was discomposing. She tried to open the car door and found it would not release.

In one quick motion, Darcy pulled his seat back and turned, reaching across Lizzy to pull the handle. He lingered in this position, slightly leaning across her, their chests lightly brushing, sending pleasure to her core, as she felt him harden. "I suppose I need all the help I can get practicing, wouldn't you agree?" Lizzy's stomach did flip flops with the feel of his body, the vision of his chiseled features, those dark eyes, the luscious lips. She could smell his earthy cologne mingled with the scent of caramel and coffee from their dessert. She couldn't help but lean forward, and, for a moment, their lips brushed, lightly.

Before she realized what he was doing, Darcy shifted his weight, pinning her, grabbing the back of her head, his fingers entwined in her curls, kissing her passionately. At first she responded in kind, intoxicated by his scent, his feel, by the idea this haughty near-stranger would be twice tempted by her, and she, him.

Then her defenses kicked in. She pulled away _._ "I think maybe we need to practice conversing, Mr Darcy, that wasn't what I had in mind. Lizzy breathlessly maneuvered around him, pushing the door open. Even if we were to 'transcend' roles, as you say, I want to get to know a man  thoroughly before I get physical. That means more than vague words and looks. Remember, I told you I've been burned. I don't care how exquisite a man is; I don't care for style or even talent, not even if it makes me a better artist. I won't sleep with a man unless I know them, trust them."

At that, she retreated to her house, still reeling. This man was dangerous- he was uptight, unfriendly, a bit of a perv (That first night, of course. Then tonight, she saw how he stared at her boobs! And that car door move! She was madder that part of her liked his advances) Yet he remained a man for whom she could- did- lower her standards. Or so she thought. She wanted to believe this was true because the alternative was terrifying.

 _NO! I am NOT going to do that again. It was a stupid idea. Why can't I stop thinking about him? What's wrong now? Why is he just sitting there?_ The thought of his constant presence sent a chill up her spine. The room suddenly felt too alien and dark. She fumbled to find a light switch.

Darcy remained sitting in the car with the door ajar, repeatedly saying to himself: _she finds me exquisite!_ until he realized a light appeared inside the front window.

Startled, Darcy put the car in reverse, and drove back to Netherfield, having decided he needed exertion before bed- maybe set up his studio in the room Bingley arranged for the purpose.

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Darcy arrived to find Bingley similarly engaged.

Bingley was in high spirits, having started a new piece. Darcy noticed sketches hanging about- obviously of Jane- and wondered. "Did she finally consent?"

Bingley laughed giddily "No! I just can't help myself! It's a bit surreptitious. I justify it by saying I won't display or sell it to anyone. It's for my own pleasure- the curves of her body, the turn of her face, such an exquisite creature inside. I told her tonight I'm falling for her. She was a bit tipsy and said 'me too!' before she ran in the house."

"I see your drunk acting worked like a charm." Darcy said, his face bearing a wry expression.

"My friend, the purpose of my drunk acting was to distract my sister so you could score. You owe it to a guy to tell me at least what base you got to since I got nothin'. Maybe you can give me pointers on how to score with a Bennet girl!" Charles punctuated this request with his charcoal pencil.

"What the hell is it with these Bennet girls?! How can they so...affect a person?" Darcy said, with force.

Charles looked up and momentarily ceased sketching. "Ah, I see that someone else was disappointed in their quest for love. What happened? Did you even make it to first base?"

"Charles, that is such a high school way to put things!" Darcy crossed his arms, his tone, gruff.

"So you didn't make it to first base!" Charles continued to gleefully sketch at his bench, looking up to tease his friend.

"Barely" Darcy managed through clinched teeth.

"Look on the bright side! I've been here for weeks and we're on the same base! Jane hid from me every time I went to the shop to just meet her in person for the first time. At least Lizzy has been more amenable to your acquaintance." Charles waggled his eyebrows.

Darcy glowered at him. He had plopped into the sofa but his posture had become decidedly tense as the conversation went on. "You don't know the half of it. There was more the other night. Now, she wants to be friends!?Friends!" Darcy threw up his arms.

Darcy's violence of expression caused Charles to cease attending to hi work, looking intently at his friend. "What do you mean the other night?"

"Let's stop talking about it!" Darcy pushed himself up and propelled himself to the door

"Just one last thing." Charles interrupted.

Darcy turned, frowning, "WHAT?"

"They're worth the effort, aren't they?" Charles smirked, knowingly.

"You are disgustingly in love, aren't you?" Darcy's lip curled, as he shook his head.

"You're just jealous."

"Damn right." He grumbled. Darcy decided he needed to be in the cool night air. He couldn't comprehend how that creature could run so hot and cold.

She flirted shamelessly, yet when he tried to make a move, Lizzy shut him down. Maybe it was the beer making her flirty. Maybe it was her past making her apprehensive…maybe...

Why did he care? He knew why he cared. He sat in the patio in his tee shirt and jeans, until his thoughts were interrupted by his teeth chattering and realized he was in utter darkness. Bingley and Caroline had long since called it a night.

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Darcy fell into a dream as soon as he hit the bed. In the dream, he was in what was supposed to be his studio- instead of his old Santa Fe Adobe*, it was something out of a Jean Cocteau film*, if a Jean Cocteau film were ever made in the Southwest. He watched while all of his work and his belongings- his territorial home, which seemed to have extensive fields and orchards- stuff he recognized and stuff he just knew to be his, stuff he knew he made without having ever made it- all if it- caught fire.

He looked down and saw that he was covered in scales and that he had claws instead of hands. As he breathed in and out he saw flames licking out of his snout. He was the source. There was nothing left but himself in the all consuming light. He felt utterly exposed as high plumes of smoke turned into an incandescent butterfly-woman, towering before him.

His dream thought words remained as Darcy awoke the vision: _Mother, help me,_ _I've been discovered. I am a monster._ The feeling of fight or flight was overwhelming as he sat in the wee hours of the morning. For the life of him he couldn't understand why he kept thinking of his mother, feeling as if she were standing just off to the side commenting on the play by play.

For someone used to intuition, this feeling should have been familiar. But it wasn't. It was new, unfamiliar and scary.

*Jean Cocteau-

youtube /watch?v=mMNMMdW5MA4

*Santa Fe Adobe

www dot santafe dot org/Visiting_Santa_Fe/Galleries_Museums/Alphabetical_List/

I am taking a bit of artistic license in assuming that William lives above his gallery: it is very expensive to rent/own space in the plaza and space is at a premium. I am kind of assuming that his is not in the plaza but in another part of town where this might be possible.

* * *

Chapter 11: The improvement of her….

The waking awareness of this dream evoked an inscrutable drive toward perfection in attempts to win the object of his admiration. Now, with every day, every meeting, every project detail that brought him near Lizzy, he felt her presence unbearable when any fault was exposed. And what does a man do in such a situation? Overcompensate.

On this occasion he was milling around in the Costume Shop, doing odd little jobs like picking up pins and finding random subjects to discuss such as his extensive knowledge on post punk. Lizzy occasionally would look up from patterning to roll her eyes or snort. Darcy, thinking that she was flirting, continued his ruminations on the subject. Maeve, less familiar with post punk, and quite familiar with Lizzy's moods, peppered Darcy with a variety of questions on the subject as she cut and stitched some cravats.

Jane's beau was also loitering around, which everyone happened to welcome. Charles knew quite a bit about the subject being discussed but was much more amused to keep his mouth shut and see how far his friend went in his gigantic waste of time trying to impress Lizzy with stupid trivia. He could be such a geek sometimes.

"The 80s and into the early 90s were the best time for post punk, the most popular bands being Bauhaus, Joy Division, Comsat Angels, and the Jesus and Mary Chain and Slowdive- although the latter two were also shoegaze. Although it also impacted goth music where its influence can be seen in early Cult, and Siouxie among dozens of bands; but also was felt in the Manchester scene as Bauhaus became New Order. Its impact is still being felt…"Thus began just such an attempt by Darcy to promote his best side.*

Fatigued that Darcy had been again expounding on ideas without thinking much on asking about those of others, she rolled her eyes- again. He was incredibly arrogant, even though his ideas were interesting. When Lizzy found herself listening intently, she could no longer resist a reply. "You certainly think highly of your grasp of post punk, Darcy."

"What do you say about the subject?" He smiled that infuriating half smile that she found far to kissable. Argh!

"While I do appreciate those artists, I like to see how women artists interpret the genre- then and now, such as the Slits, Grace Jones, The Coceau Twins, the Kills, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Even so, one of my favorites is a band composed entirely of men- Interpol."

Darcy couldn't help but flush. "You have a point there. Interpol is unforgettable. I appreciate your aesthetic and knowledge of the genre. This kind of diverse interest clearly informs your accomplishment as an artist."

If he had taken the time, he'd have noticed the frown Lizzy made at this complement and that his friends were clearly diverted by their back and forth. He didn't realize, however until she replied "Stop bullshitting about my talents, it has nothing to do with the subject."

"I was doing nothing of the kind. I was giving credit where it is due. Man or woman, a good artist must have a certain something in the spirit of their work, informed by extensive reading and inspiration from multimedia sources across cultures and history. It is helpful to know a variety media in the accomplishment of good art. Traveling to other places and experiencing different cultures in person also expands one's repertoire. The variety of a cosmopolitan place certainly informs ones work and it is made invariably better. One must be constantly at work to produce work that draws in the moment of such influences, without appropriation. In order to have a vast body of accomplishment that is respected for the ages, he or she should, if at all possible, convey something of themselves through their thoughtful choice of personal adornment."

"Really? You require a great deal for an artist to be truly great. I hardly qualify taking a few different college classes and knowing how to crochet as being a diverse and accomplished artist." Their friends snickered.

He didn't want to effuse over her again as she'd just rebuffed the compliment. He let his response stand without answering her latter comment. "Yes, I suppose I have very high standards."

"I'm not even sure if I know one such artist." Her industrial sewing machine punctuated this statement.

When she stopped sewing again he asked "Really? I know at least half a dozen."

"And how can you personally know half a dozen whose work is respected for the ages? They must be positively ancient."Her eyes sparkled a she struck the last blow. Lizzy and Darcy had been too caught up in an escalating debate to notice the others had filtered out of the room. Lizzy looked at the time, then realized they were alone.

Seeing his opportunity, persisted, not caring to notice her irritated expression. Every time she looked up he was caught staring at her. Every time she went to retrieve something from a high place he would solicitously offer to get it for her. Of course she would refuse and he would have the obvious pleasure of gaping at her derriere from such a prospect while she would climb tall ladders to fetch them herself. "Don't you have other things to do?" She finally inquired, hand on hip, foot tapping.

Darcy agreed that he probably should be getting back to his canvas. She sighed and he wondered if she was disappointed.

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When Darcy returned to his work that afternoon, Charles took it upon himself to antagonize his friend.

"So did you win her over by opining the merits of Joy Division? Or was it your admiration of Peter Murphy that did it? Perhaps you should try to tell her a few more times how much you respect her as a colleague," Charles snickered, "I find her distain of your advances refreshingly uncharacteristic of the female species."

"Shut it."Darcy was getting a snack and slamming every cupboard in the kitchen.

It was most inefficient, and loud. Charles pursued him into the kitchen, lounging at the bar, "Her wits obviously bested you yet again. One more reason that I, for one, DO respect her as an artist and a woman. What else do you have in your arsenal because, my friend, telling her your boring opinions and giving her your feminist speeches clearly aren't working. I mean, You've been at home every night. Come on, I need some alone time myself, with her sister. You need to step up, give a guy a break."

He turned around, a couple of plastic containers in each hand, pointing one menacingly at Charles, "Seriously, dude, if you don't shut the hell up, I may need to do something like tell Jane about the time you…"

"You wouldn't!"Charles jumped up and held his hands up in surrender, evacuating the kitchen with speed. Darcy didn't even need to go into which time he would tell Jane about. He had A LOT of incriminating evidence and Charles would not want her to have any of it except from his own mouth.

Darcy carried on daily in a similar manner, his efforts had the unwitting effect of providing the needed friction to thus promote the trial any love needs to produce a quality of affection. Such scenes between Lizzy and Darcy were observed in as many a light as were eyes who saw the two spar.

*postpunk

wiki/Post-punk

www dot youtube dot com/watch?v=SDdx2lnn1-Y

*shoegaze

www dot youtube dot com/watch?v=FyYMzEplnfU&list=PL9yRSRtS2oIID0KNS-I70IB66cAOXTAvS

* * *

Chapter12: Such an attitude is refreshing

Back in the costume shop, Jane and Maeve were getting another earful. "I mean he's so annoying. How can you just let him hang out and, and-"

"Stare at you and try to do dorky things to impress you?" Maeve asked, dimples appearing in her cherubic cheeks as she spoke.

"He is NOT doing that." Lizzy perched on the table, cutting furiously.

"Oh come on Lizzy, men, especially introverted intelligent men, try to impress women with their expertise and with drawing the subject of interest into the conversation,"Jane was perched at a chair and had looked up at her sister, her brow wrinkled.

Lizzy shook her head with enthusiasm; "Well I don't find it very impressive that he prattles on! And what's with his affectation? I mean, we used to argue about designs and now I feel like instead I'm being humored or redirected… I can't put my finger on it but it annoys me. Like he's getting his way by being nice instead of by being his usual self."

Maeve, who was drafting at another table paused, "Well, Lizzy I have to disagree. You're just focusing on the design areas on which you had to compromise. Sure he may want more mourning regalia while you wanted it to be minimal. I happen to appreciate the way it will look on stage and think his experience here is right. Can't you concede your many ideas which he has incorporated? He loved the theme of putting ODG in dusty rose so much that he changed his own color scheme so that the backdrop had roses in that color and he talked the lighting designer into making some changes to enhance the color. He changed his own backdrops to accommodate many of your designs and extant textile sources you found. I could go on…"

"Argh!" Lizzy threw her hands up.

"Well I will go on Lizzy. He comes in and stares at you because he likes you a lot. Charles tells me so. I've started opening my mind to possibilities as a result of Charles's influence, and I'm better for it. Why dont you do the same with Darcy? Any friend of Charles must also be a good person."

Lizzy wished her sister would stop looking at her with that entreating, pug- like expression. From the glare Jane and Maeve received, it was made clear the shop would be an entirely unpleasant place if they didn't change the subject. So they did. And Maeve put in some Judy Collins because she figured that could cheer anyone up.

After _the music argument_ , as she would come to call it, Lizzy went to El Patio with Maya to catch up on news. She enumerated to Maya the ways she considered herself greatly wronged by her nemesis, not the least of which was turning the shop in his favor. If one couldn't stitch and bitch in a Costume Shop, after all, where else could one?

Lizzy kept certain aspects of their relationship to herself, however. Little things such as the first night they met. As usual, Maya offered her sympathies about the horrible Scenic Artist. If Lizzy were paying attention, she might have noticed the dissonant expression on Maya's face while she continued to listen to Lizzy's complaints. Maya bit her tongue about what she really thought, because Lizzy already told Maya that she felt Jane, Charlotte, and Maeve were all pushing her to get together with That Man, and even The Tailor had expounded on his good qualities.

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The only person with any real objection to their pairing was the oft corseted sister of Charles, who had managed to ensure her continued presence near Darcy by cajoling her agent into making her formidable presence known to Longbourn and the University Art Department. That very afternoon, in fact, Caroline had met with Department Heads to finalize guest lecturer arrangements.

She made a deal with the Theatre and Art Departments to host a number of workshops. They revolved around painting techniques in which she specialized which were of interest to both departments as Caroline was a mistress at Trompe L'oile and landscapes. Before she obtained her degree, Caroline had also interned at her father's firm, learning extensively about interior design, another benefit to her own work which often involved multimedia installations, tryptics and the like.

Darcy had been painting alone the evening when Caroline swept in to the backstage area to cajole him into joining her as a guest in the workshops. He agreed, amidst grumbling, but had no reason to shirk a teaching opportunity, something he considered a duty. She tried, in vain to coax Darcy to celebrate over dinner. When this didn't work, she huffed out and happened to run into the same Department Heads with whom she'd recently met, who were eager to share a celebratory dinner with her. She agreed to their illustrious company and they left.

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Charles had taken advantage of Netherfield being vacated to share an intimate dinner with Jane, only to be interrupted first with Caroline calling and telling him her news. He got off the phone as quickly as he could, which happened to be not quickly enough for himself or Jane. The couple had finally settled in for a good snog when Darcy burst in and started ranting about not being left alone.

Jane and Charles first looked at Darcy, then at each other and burst out laughing. The trio shared a bottle of wine and commiserated. From what Darcy shared, and didn't share, Jane's convictions were reinforced about her sister and Darcy. He politely left after finishing his glass of wine, apologizing to them for interrupting their own alone time.

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In Art History class the next morning, when her instructor announced the great opportunity to see well known artist Caroline Bingley lecture, Lizzy had to laugh. She could guess the intention behind Caroline's spurious workshops, as she'd seen the woman in action the other night.

Let the woman have Darcy, she didn't care, Lizzy groused about to Maeve later that day.

After Lizzy almost cut out 3 sleeves, Maeve suggested as the play was not set in the Mediaeval period, perhaps she might want to stop talking so much about Caroline so as to cut out the correct number of sleeves.*

Lizzy stonily agreed and decided that the Fleetwood Mac Best Of would help her feel better. She turned it up and the two women harmonized loudly and well, which did nothing to detract from cutting out period appropriate costumes.

For what it was worth, Maeve received a flyer announcing Caroline's guest lectures on mixed media art, some of which would be in the main theatre, while others would take place in Longbourn University Art Gallery.

The woman had already left several messages that day alone asking for a litany of costume pieces. None of which Maeve was inclined to allow her to borrow. Nothing good usually came of demanding people who wanted to borrow perfectly good stock. It usually came back the worse for wear and Maeve was quite protective. She refused to answer Caroline's messages, but wasn't going to tell this to Lizzy.

*In the Medieval period, clothes might have more than 2 sleeves (arm holes) as well as several extra arms. They also could be laced on and off. I can't precisely recall why but assume it has to do with type of hygiene on the part of the Europeans who wore such fashion.

* * *

Chapter 13: More agreeably engaged

Another Bennet sister also worked distractedly in the shop due to a certain visitor. Jane, of late, was considering growing evidence that Charles found her nothing less than perfectly beautiful. It happened to hit her when Maeve asked her to try on a particular gown of an actress in the show as her size was very close to Jane's. In the mirror, Jane regarded her fake nose, her legs complete with scars and the bit missing, her limp, her weight…"I feel… perfectly lovely."Her face portrayed disbelief.

"Good! That's because you now see what everyone else- sees. You are beautiful."Maeve bustled around her with the pincushion, making some adjustments here and there while Jane was forced to stand still facing the mirror. She winced a little as she scrutinized her still unrecognizable nose, more shapely legs; she sucked in her lush abdomen, self conscious about the weight gain. "Do you realize you're not avoiding yourself in the mirror anymore?"

Jane screwed her eyes to meet Maeve's who was pinning at the garment's hem _. "_ I'd always hear mom's critical voice in my head when I looked at myself. But I can't hear her anymore. It's so sudden I can hardly account for it."

"I can and it makes me smile. What do you think has occurred to effect such a change?" Maeve continued pinning in various places and making some notes.

Jane answered. _"_ I thought Charles was lying but when I started really thinking about his actions, I concluded he had to believe what he told me. I realized that here is a man who is worth being vulnerable with. I started questioning my low self worth as I looked through his eyes and that of others whose opinion I trust.

I also realized that I couldn't trust Mama to take care of me when I was sick, or reassure me when I needed it- why should I believe someone I love but can't trust? Her positive reinforcement lasted only as long as I was doing what she wanted.

Lizzy has always told me I'm beautiful, has always believed in me, and I shut her out in a way this summer because I was afraid. Here was a guy telling me stuff my sister told me, and I was afraid that if she was right, he would be too. It doesn't make sense, really."

Satisfied with her work, Maeve stood. "Sure it does: a lack of self worth is a most effective self defense from love and from the world."

Considering her still long- and now shapely- legs, the sensuous undulation of her odalisque* form… each distinct mention of her form and countenance, Jane filed away until she could make account of them when observing her own reflection. _It is good. It is good. It is good._

Charles endeared her further by sharing yet another dear treasure with her- a sketch journal of his- it was only a small moleskine, but it held thoughts and ideas from the times when he had been at his lowest, a time that few knew about.

She returned the favor by sharing her own journal from the days when she was stuck in bed most of the day. They made the exchange at Desert Spirit one afternoon, and then spent the rest of it reading each other's work, and in deep discussion. After that, especially, Jane began to see herself with more generous eyes.

What was more important, after all than one's self understanding? It was with no little motivation, over subsequent days, that she arrived at a crossroads. Jane gained a great deal of insight into Charles's character in the short time they'd been acquainted.

They also spent time with her quirky family; In that Charles proved he was equipped to handle a great deal in the way of dysfunction. He'd taken the drama, the gossip, the unspoken rules in stride. He seemed to even enjoy all the action. And Charles never ceased to notice her, to whisper compliments- the way her gilt waves cascaded down her back, the prisms in her eyes, her sumptuous breasts when she reclined just so, her delectable and shapely legs… These observations set her up for many days into the future.

* * *

Well, hope this tides you over!

until next time- which may or may not be a week night before Friday -ahem- review-ahem :)

PS- next time will be ODC2 alone time- I promise it will be good. be patient and there will be more of our regularly scheduled ODC


	7. Chapter 7

I looked into a storyline issue out of concern that it may not be believable, but I think that I was correct in my thinking. I won't put a spoiler in about the storyline that gets hinted at. If anyone has questions or objects, then review!

Collins is introduced. I'm not sure why I've never seen this incarnation of him but it seemed perfect to me.

We get cameos from Maya and Maeve. Maeve, like The Tailor, has a real life counterpart in my alma mater and I love that person.

************Anyone who can guess the New Mexico school and town that Longbourn and Dona Maria are named for will get a shout out.

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Again, if anyone is interested in helping beta, PM me.

Final tweaking is my own.

Chapter 14: She is an angel

Jane was finally ready to bare herself. Armed with little more than a swingy, flattering 40's coat dress, and her inner resolve, Jane arrived at Netherfield. Earlier, Jane hinted her intentions to an eager Charles. Both found time in the middle of their packed schedules for a late evening rendezvous after the usual long, mid- production hours. A Friday date meant no school for Jane and no meetings for Charles the next day- just in case.

He readied his studio for every eventuality. Charles fastidiously removed his previous sketches of her likeness from memory. The charcoal and watercolor sketches, as well as candid phone shots were safely stowed. Charles's easel, palette, paints, drawing materials and photography equipment were ready to capture whatever of Jane's image he was fortunate enough to behold this night (he hoped).

He set out white wine and bite size hors d'oeuvres on the coffee table. Lighting was set a little low with accents of flickering pedestal candles here and there. A fragrant fire flickered in the fireplace. Throws and cushions were artfully placed on the divan, window seat and other seating areas.

Jane declared everything lovely. As the two dined on the patio, they watched the stars. There was something about watching the stars that made it easier for Jane to confide her secret. While he knew of the accident, he had yet to know there was more than just physical damage. Jane shared the bitterest and barest details of her near fatal car crash and the arduous healing journey that Lizzy and Char undertook with her, along with a great deal of help from the Gardiners in the latter months.

With the grace that only a Charles Bingley could muster, he endeavored to further engender Jane's trust with the details of what her mother was talking about. Finally, in a pique of long suppressed frustration over her most secret injury, Jane shucked her coat and unceremoniously stuck her injured leg out for Charles to inspect. He bade Jane to sit and allow him to thoroughly look it over in detail, then entreated her for indulgence to sketch her.

"Are you going to sell it or show it?" She asked.

"Only if you wanted me to. Or I could give it to you when I'm done."Charles's face appeared relaxed but his palms were sweating.

"I'd like that. Well, why not? Go on, then." Jane flickered a smile.

"But, there are things to sign, things we need to go over, contracts." Charles's voice was shaky.

"We don't have to do that, I trust you. We can talk about this later, so long as you agree wait to show anyone until we have some written agreement."Jane replied.

"Of course."Charles allowed. Using newsprint and charcoal, Charles sketched out some rudimentary studies of her leg, then zooming out to her form, capturing other angles and details he found intriguing. Charles kept her in suspense, not showing her anything. He drew, they talked. Finally after about an hour and a half, Charles declared himself finished for the evening and handed the pad over for Jane to see.

Her eyes were large as she drank in the pages. "Do I really look like that to you?"

"Jane, you really look like that." He led Jane to a well lit, full, 3 way mirror and urged her to assume a variety of positions and would then hold up his work in comparison. With such evidence, Jane could no longer argue.

Charles continued: "We are art for our unique quirks and scars, not despite them or excepting them." In such an attitude, Jane had the courage to examine that one part of herself that she'd not wanted to look at so closely ever since…the accident- there, she said it. There. She saw it. The hollow. The scars. The imperfection of her legs. She stood and regarded herself. Charles sat patiently watching. "May I touch it?"

"May you do what? But why?" She looked at him as if she thought he was mad.

"It would mean that I have touched the most vulnerable part of you. What man has touched you there since the doctors declared their work done? I want to be the first man – the first lover to do it. I want to be the only one to do it. I want to feel every bit of your beauty, especially the scars."

She trembled as Charles slowly extended his arm to touch the hollow place where part of her leg had once been. She gasped at the sensation; It felt as if he was touching through her, there. Phantom skin, phantom tendon, muscle, even phantom bone gave way to his electric touch.

He reached up to her face, caressing each plane and detail, whispering that she was perfect in body and character. He was honest too, frankly, he told her, his artist's eye could see the difference in her 'old' and 'new' noses. But the surgeon had done a fine job reconstructing her original features if now they were a little more aquiline.

He knew of many a socialite who would kill for 'either' nose and had spent small fortunes on the effort. He even revealed one of his sister's secrets- she had done the very thing. Jane reacted to his story by laughing until tears came down her cheeks and she cried. First she grasped her stomach with the cramps as she laughed, then she grasped Charles as they both laughed at Caroline's expense.

"Damn that felt good," she whispered, resting her head on Charles's shoulder as tears of laughter turned into tears of lament. He simply held her. When she was silent, Charles led her to the chaise where she reclined, and he covered her now shivering form. She was still and quiet, exhausted from the emotion. He retrieved a warm soft face cloth and wiped away the fallen tears from her face.

Still covered in the blanket, he carried Jane to his bedroom and gently deposited her on his bed. He urged her to rest and promised to come back shortly, after extinguishing the candles and retrieving her things. She couldn't hold her eyes open to await his return. Charles retrieved the pages and clipped them up, around his studio. He wanted to look at her every day. He couldn't get enough of her. Afterward, Charles crawled into bed waiting for her to wake up until he couldn't wait anymore.

*odalisque- I am referencing Ingres's work, specifically

en dot wikipedia dot org/wiki/Grande_Odalisque

I'm not sure that this is really considered a body type but I always think of that flat pear shape to be odalisque because that is the way they are depicted.

* * *

Pygmalion awakes

Another MA warning

Jane awoke confused in a dark, unfamiliar room, realizing after a few moments that she must be in a bedroom. She also realized that Charles was lying next to her, still in his clothes. Jane had a pang of regret and embarrassment that she fell asleep. Well, it was time to remedy the situation.

She peeled off his clothes, piece by piece, while Charles seemed to remain soundly asleep. Jane felt compelled to run her fingers through his hair, then trace the outlines of his face, eyes, and lips. She brushed his neck with her lips, hands lightly caressing his fingers and arms, tracing his muscles as she kissed his chest. Hands and lips lightly stroked Charles's firm abdomen, tracing down. Making the slow journey down Charles's body, Jane submerged beneath the blankets that partially covered them both. She intentionally avoided his rigidity, instead touching his hips, thighs and calves with feather strokes.

Beginning to wonder whether or not Charles was actually awake, Jane tested the theory by slowly caressing his sensitive rib area while significantly hardening her pressure. Charles deftly caught her hands and flipped Jane beneath him, straddling her. She squealed as Charles, never releasing his hold, bent down to silence her with a kiss.

Jane surrendered, opening herself. Charles ran his tongue along her throat, down her sternum, along her hardened nipples and the underside of her firm breasts. He thrust his tongue out licking down her ribs as she gasped and tried to push him away before succumbing. He did the same along her hip bone and the muscles above her thigh, then along her bikini line. Jane convulsed in ecstasy, her energy building to a point it felt she would explode.

Suddenly, Charles dipped his tongue into her pleasure center and he lapped, licked and kissed Jane's nether regions while pinning her down. She was in a blissful torture and made only a feeble struggle against her amorous captor. He kept Jane on the edge, maddeningly slowing down every time she was about to come, only to build up again and again. With a finality that Jane long anticipated, Charles finally ravaged her with his mouth as she was nearing her overwhelming crisis. Jane convulsed wildly in wave after wave of ecstasy as she let out a throaty cry.

As Jane's orgasm subsided, Charles put on a condom before he plunged into her with intensity. Jane loudly exclaimed at the ferocity of his lovemaking and responded in kind. Over and over again he pulled back from the edge, taking his own time to ride her. Shaking, he was overcome with explosions of bliss emanating from his member, seemingly lasting forever, washing over his entire body and through him in the most satisfying orgasm he had ever known. The two lay together, exhausted and enveloped in each other, until sleep overtook them.

When she woke up again, in his arms still, Jane knew where she was in a literal sense, but she was perplexed about this situation in which she had so willingly placed herself. It was a precipice. Jane imagined she would fall into oblivion if his arms ceased their embrace, if she were to dip a toe into the morning's cold, hard floor. His sleepy endearments, then, were incantations making her impervious to such a fate. How long would this spell, this game, last?

Seemingly in reply Charles pronounced it "Magic"

"What?" She blinked.

"My wonderful Jane!" He had bolted up on his knees in the bed, while firmly embracing her about the waist, and, in a pendulous twirling motion, swung her up and dipped her in a breathless kiss. "I can't believe you're really, really here!"

"Neither can I!" She declared, to both of them, to the universe, which was otherwise silent on the matter.

"You do something to me." He said between kisses.

"Oh? And what is that?" She asked, between kisses.

"It's... indescribable… I want to laugh, I want to sing, I want to take a giant canvas and make giant splatters like Pollack*- except that I would only be drunk from you!" Charles buried his head in Jane's shoulder, and, nuzzling her thick, honeyed, veil of hair, inhaled deeply. "You smell so good." He dipped in to Jane's mouth in a soft, lush kiss, "You taste incredible." He tasted more of her. "All of you."

She didn't have time to think as he carried her away again. First there was the relaxed yet efficient manner in which he had brought her to climax with his fingers and mouth in all the right places.

And then he placed Jane so that she was prone, bent just so, on a mountain of cushions on the king size bed. Just so, he had caressed her until she was drenched and beyond ready for his taking. And Charles plunged into her depths, again, and yet again, until both toppled into their release. It was so right that she felt he'd seeped into her sensual awareness.

"Wait here!" He commanded. And she complied, laying on the cushions, feeling as if she had no bones left to heave her form upright. She heard water drawn as the scent of sea and lavender wafted through the room. He carried and immersed Jane into the steaming aromatic tub. "I'll be back. Don't go anywhere." She sighed and allowed herself this bliss.

 _Where would I go, anyway?_ Jane mused. All she had was a coat dress which would look slightly suspicious even to her oblivious family.

This thought evaporated with the curls of steam. Jane was simply too relaxed to do anything at this point but trust that Charles would come back. That task was simple for the moment- she was in his tub, after all. He proved good on his word and even returned with some items which she supposed would do better for her walk of shame than said coatdress.

Ever the eager host, Charles helped Jane out of the cooling bath and solicitously dried her every curve and crevice, a task which he enjoyed very much. "See if any of these would do." Jane sorted through a basket containing a selection of button downs, tee shirts, sweaters, jeans, and a few miscellaneous pieces of loungewear.

Initially she was skeptical that her curvy, more generous form would fit into lean Charles's clothes. Again she was surprised at how her perception was distorted when a pair of stretchy lounge pants hugged her hips and thighs. Charles's eyes gleamed in wolfish delight as he observed Jane trying on his things. She found a stretchy heather undershirt and put it on, after which she pulled on a teal green tweed wool sweater which transformed Jane's deep sea eyes to the sweater's exact green. She could tell by his expression that he appreciated what his clothes did for her.

It was her turn to enjoy watching Charles perform his toilette. He put on a Meso American motif tee* and an ancient pair of jeans, both of which bore abundant evidence of past paintings randomly distributed in swipes and splotches, the knees and one spot under a back pocket wearing thread bare. Jane couldn't resist running her finger along that particular hole. "If I'm any more turned on, I'm not going to let you out of this house today," he growled.

With a come hither look, Jane backed away. "I, for one, am hungry. For food."

Charles conceded. They went downstairs and Charles made the best coffee Jane ever tasted. She selected a croissant, while Charles fixed ham and eggs. Jane decided it was the most delectable chocolate croissant she tasted. As they ate, they chatted about their respective projects for the day, their tones conveying normalcy to an otherwise momentous occasion, being, the morning after. Neither spoke further as Charles gave Jane a ride to her place while she got some things she needed for the day, for awhile. Just clothes to change into and a few other things.

The Bennets were gone- busy with their own respective Saturday mornings and there wasn't any unwelcome homecoming or interrogation to break the spell. Without their cacophony, Jane put the family out of her mind easily. And so Jane and Charles continued to luxuriate in the mundane. As they she rode into Longbourn with Charles, Jane decided aloud this had to be one of the best Saturdays morning she'd ever experienced- what a Saturday morning should be. The revolving door of clothing and book retrieval at 'home', then returning to Netherfield became a nightly routine.

Hence Jane expressed same thought on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday…. Every day of the week became better with Charles, even when only sleeping in the same bed, waking up and dashing through school, theatre and projects, only to see each other again that night

*Pollack- Jackson Pollack's splatter paintings

* here is one image of a tee:www dot redbubble dot com /people/flakdamage/works/8775790-aztec-world-tree?p=t-shirt

\- My husband has a sun print one but I couldn't find it online

* * *

Chapter 15

Half sick of shadows

Jane's personal life and coursework coalesced when, in Family Systems class, she was assigned to write her family history. Doing homework and talking about the topic with Char proved revelatory. They sat at a Desert Spirit, drinking copious amounts of hot beverages and talking, under the guise of studying.

"I used to be the perfect one and my mom couldn't take it when I wasn't perfect anymore. It didn't fit her image. It wasn't me, it was her who 'broke'. I needed to be away from them to see that. Now that I do, I feel even better that Mary and I agreed the summer before last that she would take the Farm. I can't imagine that I would have been happy in the end. It wasn't what I wanted. It took losing it to know that. I am perfectly content with the idea of being a psychologist. It feels more 'me'." Jane then took a sip from her mug.

"I think it's been good for your family. For what it's worth, I think I, too, could become more actualized spending time in a posh house in the arms of a yummy man!" Charlote responded.

"Well have you?" Jane asked, looking up innocently from her mug.

"This conversation isn't about me, is it?" Charlotte crossed her arms.

"We can make it about you. How is Richard?" Jane asked, smiling, brows raised.

Charlotte concentrated on the contents of her mug. "Richard is on assignment for the next few days. Sometimes the military is hard on my poor nerves as your mother would say." She took a fortifying swig of hot chocolate. "I feel petty but I just want to have my post doc settled in a place where we could both be. And, now that you have successfully diverted the conversation… back to you; I take it that you plan to stay at Netherfield because its good for your relationships?"

Jane sighed."I suppose that is my rationalization for it but the sex is good too- when it happens. We're busy with work and school, all too often."

"Ah, to be in that predicament." Charlotte lamented.

"Don't worry Char, it will happen soon enough. Richard will be back on leave before you know it. Besides, you have your own place, you're well on your way to a PhD. You have things in hand." Jane put her hand on her friend's shoulder, reassuringly, not noticing that Charlotte looked down and had wrapped her arms protectively around her middle. The two continued to study and discuss Lizzy's unbelievably slow wit to not notice how Darcy was besotted with her, wondering if the Fair would promote young love or extinguish it.

* * *

Chapter 16: Sorting Seeds

"….And this is my third eldest daughter Mary, who is always out in the garden or studying botany. She is going to inherit the Farm since Jane had her accident and Lizzy is… well, Lizzy." Francesca introduced botanical genius Lee Collins to her family.

His head bobbed in acknowledgment of each family member, stopping at a particular Bennet. "Mary Mary quite contrary how does your garden grow? Did you know that nursery rhyme….".

"Oh lord!" Kitty exclaimed

"What a weenie" Lydon said under his breath

"For once, something upon which we both agree," replied Mr Bennet, rolling his eyes. He had the distinct pleasure of hosting Lee Collins, distinguished Rosings Foundation's resident 'Environmental Therapist' and National Extension Service sustainable gardening grant recipient.

Usually at odds, that evening at least, the Bennet gentlemen found a common target and were, for once, unified, bantering back and forth, making jokes about hipsters who garden. Oblivious to goings on around them, Mary and Collins proceeded to monopolize each others' time throughout dinner, something in which the two Bennet men found even greater amusement.

The usually stoic Mary's interest in 'the weenie' was plain to Lydon who took immense pleasure in tormenting all of his sisters for any reason he could find. This night was no exception and their father did nothing to stop him, unable to suppress his mirth at his wife's ineffective clucking at Lydon's insults that were thinly veiled with humor. His father only complimented Lydon that he could see the boy did get *something* from his father, after all. Other than her mother's jibe, Lizzy was very glad to avoid any further attention from that quarter that night.

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It did not exclude Lizzy from further attentions from her mother. Francesca gossiped about the future of The Farm and her hopeful son in law at every opportunity- usually during fittings for Kitty's newest Fair Queen pageant clothes, when Lizzy was stuck with pins in her mouth.

"Of course I take every advantage of Collins accompanying Mary every Wednesday and Saturday to the Farmer's Market. Everyone knows who he is and is green with envy! They come over to Mary's booth and introduce themselves to him asking if he would even mention them in his popular blog about locally grown produce. And do you know the only family in Dona Maria to have such a distinction? Ours! Mary is quite lucky to be the recipient of Collins's attentions. I wonder if he is interested in her or just her plants! Well it is no matter, because the garden is certainly benefiting from his solicitude."

The family was always busy this time of year. Francesca worked with Lydon and Kitty on activities such as Kitty's Fair Queen duties, both kids' livestock, and with the 4-H club on upcoming fair entries.* Mary had school, Collins had the symposium, and inbetween both worked the Farmer's Market. Jane was gone virtually all the time- either with Charles or at school; Lizzy was busy with school and projects.

For some reason, Lizzy thought things more tense this year. When at home, she noticed the family's busyness and her father's more liberally applied acerbic wit, directed at his empty nest. The only time that the family seemed to be all together and at peace was when Wickham came over and made dinner. The dinners were always superb and his conversational skills smoothed out any conflict.

Lizzy was surprised that he was 'such a fixture' to coin a term he'd previously used, and carefully watched her family to see if she could detect any signs of unwelcome and she couldn't. Not even from her father. Perhaps he was just happy everyone was home since he had taken to complaining about how none of them stayed home anymore.

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After she finished Kitty and Lydon's shirts, and Kitty's dress for the fair, she was at home even less. She as spent most of her time on studio and Costume Shop work, keeping her away from the Farm, and at Longbourn late into most evenings and on weekends. It was convenient to stay with Maya in town.

Maya had been around the Bennet family enough to know the situation. She could easily tolerate the boisterous family for Mrs Bennets wholesome meals and the beauty of their farm. Lately there just hadn't been time, though. After school one Thursday, Lizzy plopped down on Maya's futon. "Here, I brought home some more of those amazing brownies Wickham makes. "

"Oomph. Oh G-d." Maya gurgled between mouthfuls. "These are sooo good! I don't think I need a man ever again. Just these. The name is perfect. The Big O Brownies."

It was Lizzy' turn to speak between mouthfuls of brownie, "It's the least I could do. Thank you for letting me crash here. I am just too stressed to go home at night. Honestly though it is pretty convenient to work such long hours right now, things are too weird there without Jane. Heck, things were weird with Jane- ever since Charles, she's been in la-la land. That's why she didn't write me much this summer. I only see her at work, now!

Even Mary is out being some kind of hipster with her new boyfriend. Traitors. Did I tell you that Wickham seems to be around for every family meal? Mom doesn't even care that he's taken over her kitchen. And DAD! If he's not complaining about the empty nest, he's raving over Wickham's cooking or teasing Collins with Lydon!

That or mom is screeching at Lydon about attending to his 4-H projects and Dad makes dry comments about her nerves being his only companion. I guess that's why he agrees to Mom's scheme- she figures that Wickham might get him to be more constructive with his time."

"How?" Maya had made quick work of the brownie and was licking crumbs from her fingers.

Lizzy smirked at her friend as she did the same. "I don't know. They go horseback riding together and Wickham hangs out while Lydon practices roping."

"I don't think he's going to be the kind of cowboy your mom wants, no offense." Maya was now picking up crumbs and straightening so they could both study.

"He seems to take to Wickham pretty well." Lizzy looked up from sorting through her papers.

"But isn't he a little old to be a mentor?" Maya gazed at her friend.

"I feel like he is, but is it hypocritical when Char is 6 years older than me and she used to take me clubbing underage? I can't believe Wickham is up to with Lydon what he was up to in Lambton with adults." Lizzy wrinkled her forehead. Maya let the matter drop. She and Lizzy had more lofty things to discuss such as their Art History Papers. The matter rested for the evening, but she couldn't escape forever.

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Returning to the shop the next evening Lizzy was reminded of how much she wanted to escape. Her family were the tip of the iceberg. Hiding for a moment, she spied on Maeve and Darcy, listening as he made an arse out of himself yet again. The man had a bad habit of that.

"You want me to what?" His face was incredulous.

"You're a smart man, you heard me." Maeve's lip twitched as she stared at Darcy in challenge.

"I can't believe it! I brought truffles! I thought that was the atonement for missing an appointment?" Lizzy didn't know Darcy could adopt such a high pitch in his voice.

"Oh really, missing an appointment? Is that all? Because I was under the impression that your offenses also involved a certain Costume shop babe with fine eyes." Maeve's expression was as mirthful as it was serious.

Darcy stepped back. "What did you hear?"

Maeve stepped forward. "Plenty. How much of it should I believe?"

"It depends on what you heard." Darcy's usual suave, reserved demeanor faded as he faced Lizzy's formidable mentor. How could this plump, mischievous hippie from a regional theatre be so intimidating? And in a costume shop of all places- the traditional dumping ground of all theatrical angst.

 _I've got to give it to her, she's got a lot of power._ Lizzy thought.

"Will, we've known each other awhile." Maeve's hand was on her hip.

"Exactly, so I don't understand why you're having me do an intern's job and sort these seed beads from that disgusting bin. It's going to take forever, having to untie those knots. Darcy's pout was hilarious. Lizzy thought the man could really be a baby sometimes.

"Well, you're not exactly going anywhere- I know you're at a standstill until Mark approves your progress on the drops and he's busy until tomorrow morning. And yet, (her eyes sparkled when she said this) you find you must be here to approve any lighting or set changes they are running. Hm. Whatever will you do with all that waiting time?

"Great. Alright. Where do you want me to sort these? Will set to work sorting the tote. Who in their right mind would put a bunch of tiny beads in such a large container and how did those bugs get in here? It's disgusting.

Lizzy finally took this as the perfect opportunity to emerge and replied "My Aunt Phil got this at an Estate Sale. She's the one who conveniently put them in this tote to bring to the shop, since she knows that is how we store things here. She thought they'd be perfect for that mourning look you've been so keen on. Thank you for your interest."

Maeve hooted in hilarity as she watched the two spar. "Tell us how you really feel, Lizzy, I don't want to miss anything. She took a seat as if she were audience and heckler at a vaunted Broadway performance. I knew we didn't have any volunteers coming in and figured you'd start needing these for the show. Is that ok?" Maeve's eyebrow cocked in amusement.

Lizzy squinted a little, thinking something else entirely, but said to her mentor, "It is your shop, Maeve, I can't complain. He will be useful tonight since no one else is coming in and you're right not to put that work off. Even if it will be a pain in my ass the whole night."

"Elizabeth, I apologize. Being a pain in your ass, as you put it, was completely unintentional. I don't want to be a pain in anyone's ass. Especially your ass. I respect it too much. Darcy's tone threatened to tell Maeve more than Lizzy wanted her to know."

Lizzy could see by her expression, Maeve was beside herself at Darcy's flirtatious apology but kept her mouth shut. Maeve stood up to unfold a bolt of fabric, but Lizzy knew she was still observing them both intently. Lizzy turned to Darcy: "I'm warning you, I have some draping and cutting to do and it's going to be a long night so you better keep your condescension to yourself, right?"

Maeve took that as a cue to turn on an old costume shop stand by, an Aretha Franklin 'best of' CD she'd put together.

* * *

hope this tides you over till All Hallow's Eve

hope to hear from you or at least follow me so I can see who the dozens of people are on my graph :) please and thank you


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry for the 10 day hiatus. There was a tragic death in the extended family. In keeping with this, I am moving forward with life- both RL and FF while acknowledging the loss, my grief, and that of others. I want to dedicate the story to everyone who feels like a misfit

+o+o+o+o+o

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Again, if anyone is interested in helping beta, PM me.

Final tweaking is my own.

* * *

Mother stands for comfort

Lizzy groaned when minutes later her phone rang.

"You'd better get that, I know you've been avoiding her all night and she'll just keep calling."

"Maeve, since when have you ever told me what to do? Even in class?"

"You know I'm a Southern girl and a girl respects her momma."

"Geez. Alright." Lizzy sighed as she picked up the continually ringing phone and ducked around the corner to the stock inside the shop.

Francesca's shrill speech was easily heard by Maeve and Darcy. "What are you doing? You'll wear yourself out working so hard! You should do something else on a Friday night."

Lizzy sighed. "Mom, the fair stuff is done. You don't need me. Besides, you know I have to work tonight."

Francesca pressed, I know nothing of the kind. They don't pay you enough to work so hard. You'll exhaust yourself for nothing."

"What else do I have to do tonight? Lizzy asked through gritted teeth.

"Well Jane and her boyfriend Charles are on a date, and they even came to the house tonight to help the kids with their projects. Jane is such a good girl, even with her 'injury'." Francesca's voice dropped.

"Mom, you don't have to whisper like that. Everyone knows about Jane's leg, she's still a capable human being for g-ds sake- and Charles loves her for who she is, so stop making a big deal of it." Lizzy's voice was raised.

"He is such a good boy to date her even if she isn't beautiful like she used to be." Francesca's voice was dramatically shaky.

"MOM! I think she's even more beautiful… but anyway, I really can't talk now, I have to get back to work." Lizzy's voice continued to rise.

"That's just fine. Spend your evenings how you like, for all the good it does. You'd do well to find a young man who will respect your heritage. You have no appreciation for it yourself. No wonder Cole and Wickham threw you over." Her mother now sounded like she was crying. Lizzy knew it was only an affectation.

Lizzy didn't notice Darcy look up, face reddened, at the metion of a certain name, but Maeve did. She shook her head and mouthed _not now. It's alright._

Meanwhile Francesca continued "You didn't even date one of those nice 4-H boys all the years you were in it. I told you not to take all Home Ec projects but you wouldn't listen and now you're up there with all those lesbians. Francesca's tone became more shrill and wobbly."

"Mom!" Lizzy howled.

"Well, it's true. Who else makes a career of sewing anyway?" Maeve and Darcy looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

"Aunt Phillips." Maeve nodded emphatically.

"But she sells antiques. Very classy I'd say and she has someone do the sewing for her, probably an illegal." Darcy's jaw dropped at Francesca's most offensive statement yet.

"MOM! She is a generous employer and it isn't any of our business who she employs. ANYWAY, some of us ARE working tonight." Lizzy emphasized.

"It's just too bad you aren't working with your brother and sister at home on their project. They could use your help before the fair, but I guess you never did care about being a good sister to them, always off gallivanting around to your gallery openings and melodramas or doing goodness knows what, having to deal with undressed people all the time, probably perverts." Francesca's volume was lower but she was speaking between sniffles, now.

"That isn't what I do, and you should know if you spent the time on MY interests but you didn't. So, your loss. Goodnight mom. Don't wait up." Lizzy heaved another sigh and hung up. "ARRRRGH!" Lizzy half growled, half howled, still behind the curtain of stock.

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She stayed there for a few minutes until Maeve commented. "You know how proud she'll be when you're through."

"No, Maeve, I doubt she'll even come to the show. She doesn't care that I wanted to take art and theatre. She never came to my school events back then. Only to my 4-H shit, and she hated it every time I did stuff outside the rules." Lizzy resumed patterning 2 simple dresses.

"It's really a shame no one in the family got to see your work in Lambton." Maeve said.

Lizzy shook her head, eyes on her work. "I wasn't expecting it. Everyone is busy. I sent pictures to Aunt Phil and Tia. They appreciated it."

"Speaking of which, I noticed some pictures you sent me with some interesting characters. I'd love to hear about them. You must have been fending off the boys like you always do, and yet, I heard next to nothing of any boys in Lambton." Maeve nonchalantly continued working at her table. Lizzy looked oddly at Maeve, noticing that Darcy nodded at her mentor.

Lizzy looked up at her and blushed. "Well, one in particular certainly tried. At first I thought something might come of it. Wickham reminded me of Cole. And then I realized something. Wickham reminded me of Cole. Nope, I didn't go there and I am glad. I was happily single and independent the whole summer and it was nice. Who knows what that Wickham bloke is up to, now. He moved in with the Stage Manager from this summer's crew, at her ranch south of here.

Somehow he ingratiated himself into my family and cooks supper there from time to time. I like his food but that's about it. He's kind of got this wounded thing going on and the last thing I want is a fixer upper. Thank g-d he doesn't seem interested in me anymore, I was getting sick of fending him off."

"Do you mind me asking if that was _ Wickham?"

"The very one."

"You have a younger brother, I believe?"

"He's 17."

"I hope you don't mind me mentioning that I know Wickham and unfortunately, so did my own younger brother. I wish Jorge had never met the man. I hope that your brother doesn't have the same experience. If I'm not being too officious, I hope at least the whole family is together and your brother ?"

"-Lydon." Lizzy interjected.

"-Lydon- doesn't spend time with him alone." Darcy's eyes were earnest.

Lizzy regarded Darcy. "What an odd suggestion. I don't suppose you're saying that out of paranoia."

"I assure you I'm not." Lizzy noticed the tenseness of his posture.

"Well, thanks for the advice. I'll pass it on, for what it's worth." He looked up at her with a serious expression.

" Not that I disbelieve you. My parents are pretty…lax. I honestly doubt they'll think much of it. But I'll keep it in mind." Lizzy was pensive, but held back the questions from Darcy. She told herself that it must not be what she assumed, but didn't dare find out. It just seemed too unrealistic to think that of Wickham, no matter how odd his behavior. No, she really would just keep his suggestion in mind and hope for the best.

As if echoing her thoughts, Darcy spoke: "I hope for the best for everyone concerned,"

Maeve kept silent but her eyes communicated to Lizzy what words could not. Nothing seemed appropriate to say, at least for a time, and so each worked and listened to the music, in their own thoughts.

Eventually conversation picked back up again about less fearsome subjects. Darcy asked Elizabeth how she learned her craft, and she proceeded to tell anecdotes about 4-H projects, her days sneaking around to Aunt Phil's and the finagling she had to do with Francesca to focus on sewing at the expense of 4-H projects like horticulture and livestock. She went on to recount how she convinced Francesca in the soundness of her plan to learn the craft of making clothes rather than the business end, and how she had to continue to hustle her mom so school expenses could get paid.

Through well timed questions, Darcy was able to get Lizzy to share more about how she'd planned to go to New York with Cole and when that plan fell through, she'd come up with the plan to go into business for herself, some of which might include costume work. Lizzy then diverted the conversation into stories about The Tailor's eccentricities and had both Maeve and Darcy in tears, they were laughing so hard.

* * *

Chapter 17: I'll change these clothes if I want to and I do

Maeve was mass producing Georgian shirts as they talked and Darcy looked down to see that ¾s of the contents the bin was now categorized into several rows of beads.

As Darcy continued to sort, he was silent, brows knit, finally asking is "4-H that cult from the Victorian era? Richard and Charles said your family is really gung ho about 4-H. Is that like being Amish or something?*

Maeve and Lizzy laughed uproariously until each had to hold their sides. Lizzy took it upon herself to further the effect and say the 4-H pledge. "Now you're indoctrinated and you can't leave 'the cult!'" Darcy couldn't help but laugh along. "You really do think I'm a backwoods hick, don't you, you moron?"

Darcy shook his head. "Really I don't- you're talented and intelligent. It takes guts to come up with a new plan. All that and taking care of your sister, which shows how kind you are."

Lizzy stopped working and looked up. "Who told you about my plans and Jane?"

Darcy was focused on his bead sorting. "I've been around when Jane has told Charles about it."

"Busybody," Lizzy muttered. That was between her and Jane. Her sister knew it and didn't share their 'secret' willingly. He must have pried. That raised her hackles.

Darcy continued to patiently work on the beads. "I wanted to know more about you and Jane was eager to answer my questions. He stopped working and looked up, his eyes boring into her. First you told me I'm arrogant and think too much of my own opinions. When I take the trouble to find out more about you and show an interest, you criticize me. Why do you think the worst of me?"

" You are defensive around him," offered his faithful assistant.

"Dammit Maeve." Elizabeth gritted her teeth.

Darcy persisted. "Shall I remind you of-"

"NOT NOW!" Lizzy's body burned as she was in fact reminded of that time when her defenses were engendered against this man and then he so effectively and pleasurably dismantled them. "You have me in a bind, here."

Darcy barked a laugh. "I could say the same thing about you- can't do anything right, can I? You have me in a double bind. I could think of much better ways to be bound, I assure you-"

Lizzy broke in- "Yes, I know."

Maeve arched her brow interestedly. "You do? What kind of binding exactly?"

"Never mind, Maeve." Lizzy said through gritted teeth.

"I told you I was going to put my words to action. I have, haven't I?" Darcy asked.

Elizabeth asked, with reluctance, "How?"

He replied easily. _"_ Going with dusty rose… suggesting to Ken that each designer take turns at facilitating a meeting… asking everyone for sketches so that I could use them in my pieces."

"That was a particularly good idea; have you seen them lately? It's all there- elements of Charles's sets, Lynn's lighting, _'s direction, _'s props, and YOUR costumes." Maeve added.

Darcy stopped working and emphasized his words. "The company doesn't exist to look down on you or sabotage your work. In fact, most people admire your work. Sure, people critique each other; You are in a collaborative field, after all- even when you go into business, it will involve critique and collaboration."

Maeve clicked her tongue. "He's right. I've been trying to tell her that but her artistic temperament."

Darcy cut in. "It's not about artistic temperament. It's about discipline and awareness."

Lizzy's voice grew hard. "Uh, I think I'm pretty dedicated to my work, don't go telling me I'm lazy."

Maeve walked over and put a reassuring hand on her charge. "Lizzy, Darcy, I- and hell, the whole production company- knows how prodigious you are and how beautiful your work is. But collaboration involves the discipline of believing in your own work enough to be open to what others say- and discerning when their criticism is crap and when they're right."

"That's true." Darcy had resumed his sorting but when she looked over at him, he caught her eye every time, like he felt her eyes on him. How could the man simultaneously work, cause trouble and know she was looking at him?

"You are SO patronizing sometimes."But Lizzy had little more to say in reply to their challenge. Her temper simmered as she worked in silence for a time. Maeve returned to her post to work.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPPxoxNMxoxPPPxoxNM

She and Darcy also lapsed into silence. Darcy finally said: "No one who had the pleasure of seeing your work, and working with you, could find your work wanting. Your talent doesn't take away from your relative newness to the field. I earned the authority I have, first, through making mistakes, and later by listening to others. I come off as officious because I've benefited from years of experience to become adept in the discipline of collaboration and seeing the big picture."

"That so many experienced people think well of your work, is the opposite: to your credit. You have the benefit of being nurtured by many who would see you succeed. I am the first on that list. Although I would like to give you the benefit of learning from my mistakes rather than making your own, I also respect your independence and support you regardless. The production is the production, but your career is more than that. Anyone who thinks a career hinges on one show or the opinion of one person is short sighted."

To this soliloquy, Maeve clapped, "hear hear. Lizzy, I wholeheartedly agree with Darcy. And you've seen my record to know what I stand for. You DO know that I would never give you any advice on matters close to your heart which could cause problems for myself?"

Her eyes sparkled when she emphasized heart. Lizzy blushed prettily at their encouragements, but remained silent. She was still torn between annoyance at Darcy's officiousness and his kindly spoken words. She knew – deeply knew- that Maeve was right- she wouldn't endorse or agree with Darcy if she mistrusted or disrespected him. Maeve wouldn't encourage Lizzy if it meant possible ruination for Lizzy's career or cause productivity issues for herself. But Maeve's words implied even more. Still, she did not speak.

During the course of the night, Darcy made pots of tea and coffee, fixing his two female companions cups to their specifications. He proved extremely useful for getting things off of high places, and he even gave Maeve a neck rub when she got a kink. Lizzy had considered asking for one too, but didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

She was still irritated that, despite herself, she noticed how thin his tee shirt was and wondered about the necklaces he wore. Now was not the time for a neck rub. She didn't want to also notice how strong his hands were, how nice his jeans fit…She almost succeeded in removing him from her thoughts.

As Darcy made his way to the bottom of the bin he discovered some old findings. "Look at these! These findings must be 100 years old! Is this hair inside this pin? Does that mean these beads are Jet?"

Maeve and Lizzy were drawn to what Darcy had found. Sure enough, he had discovered the secrets of this box. It had beads and accoutrements used to make mourning jewelry and other items. *

"I wonder whose this was? What a story this treasure must have." He commented.

"Treasure is always about- one only has to look." With a dimpled grin, Maeve looked back and forth at her two charges expectantly.

Lizzy quickly got back on topic. "Yes, my Aunt Phil has great fun- that is why she does so well at her business. It's her passion. She loves finding deserving homes for old things. That's why I love it too- because we make old clothes come to life."

The three spent the ensuing minutes in discussion about the pleasure of found objects. Maeve encouraged the impassioned conversation which was a buffer from earlier conflict. Lizzy relaxed again into introspection as she continued to work, eventually conceding that perhaps Darcy (and Maeve) were right. She could indeed participate with more openness in the collaborative process.

Conversation between herself and Darcy veered increasingly into numerous double entendres, causing Maeve to howl with laughter while Lizzy blushed at Darcy's flirtation.

When the laughter subsided, Maeve made a quiet excuse to go home for the night- something about coming to a stopping point. She suggested that Will finish his project and he agreed with enthusiasm.

* 4-H is (or was) an agrarian youth organization where kids take projects and learn about all different kinds of things from raising livestock, crops to making all kinds of food from scratch and sewing/stitching clothes to rocketry, photography, and IT.

*Jet was a stone symbolizing mourning in the Victorian era.

* * *

Chapter 18: Dress me in Scarlet, Ribbons and Bows

"I guess that leaves us," Lizzy's voice was tentative. She had a dress to finish and now felt a captive- to her work or her assistant, she couldn't say. The night's last remnants drew ever more slowly to a conclusion.

This simple dress was taking forever- each moment dragged, she was aware of every sound; pins scratching paper, scissors cutting fabric. Requiring a cup of tea, she asked if he wanted one, but he replied in the negative. She set the kettle on the burner waiting for a seeming eternity for it to heat up. The red burner glared at her in its resolute slowness.

Darcy was the elephant in the room. She couldn't help but look his way, wondering. She was compelled to converse but said nothing. How could he be so good looking?

She was a sucker for a man who would help out in the shop. It was quite sexy, really. His reluctance had been transformed into childlike enthusiasm for mysteries contained within the craft. Unlike Wickham, Darcy was respected by professionals around her. He also spent his time well, being solicitous of their needs during the night. Wickham lounged on the couch and told stories.

She sorted out, slowly, answers to her doubts. Maeve had been defending him this summer much to her chagrin, but Lizzy trusted Maeve's judgment. Maeve kept urging her to be more open, especially to Darcy. Tonight was no exception. Lizzy had been resisting Maeve's advice.

Why? Lizzy had to admit the struggle was formed by her own vanity. Maeve, who had no scruples to put pride in her work and her shop, was open to others' input. But only up to a point- if work suffered, if people suffered, Maeve put her foot down, albeit gently.

Her mentor never liked Cole. Cole who never helped out like this, who came in and distracted her from actual working. Maeve could have ejected him but she didn't. She let Lizzy make her own choices, simply reminding her that she had to get her projects done no matter how late she stayed in the shop. She knew Maeve wasn't happy with him but she was supportive through it all, letting her take time off for Jane, even when it meant extra work for herself.

Maeve had plenty of messy differences with her coworkers, including dealing with an extramarital affair between a student and a visiting director. Lizzy remembered how the director, her friend, came in to confide his woes. Maeve warned him repeatedly that honesty was the best policy. And yet, when the truth came out and the board threatened to fire them both, Maeve was the first to champion their personal lives as being separate from their work, which happened to be exceptional. The show had been sold out even on weeknights.

Maeve had clearly given her blessing to Lizzy and Darcy. She knew the man well and clearly respected him. It only meant one thing. She was silent, cutting the last few pieces, pinning them to a form, conscious of the fact that he, allowed the solitude to persist. She watched him for a few minutes, poking herself more than once as she pinned. She finally yielded to speech.

"You made quick work of those beads. Thank you. If it had been 'just an intern' or a student, they may have thrown away the findings. I'm glad you were here. I really don't want to talk about it anymore but I realized you and Maeve are right- about a lot of things. I am going to work on what you guys suggested. I realized I've benefited greatly from being open- first to Maeve and the Tailor. But more than them, I've benefited from being open to you. It's done something to me I can't describe."

He was suddenly standing inches from Lizzy, in her seated position on the high patterning table. With him before her, Lizzy imagined him taking her on this table- it was such a convenient height. His breathing became labored and his eyes raked over her body. "It's all been my pleasure. I love being here."

"This is a pretty great place," Lizzy laughed nervously. Opening required a slowness of process, not hurling oneself into that great expanse with great abandon.

Darcy said in a breathless, deep whisper. "It's because of you."

She knew what he was doing. She wanted this and yet she couldn't let her work here lapse if she was going to be with him. That was the point of Maeve's blessing. "The feeling is mutual, and, as much as I'd love to spend more time with you, I need to finish my work." Lizzy spoke carefully re loaded the multiple strands of antique beads into the tote.

Darcy muttered that he wasn't sure why he'd gone to all that work, now, if she was going to just put them back. As she continued to struggle with the tote, he said, At least let me help you put that heavy tote where it belongs.

She waved him off. "No, Kent is probably upstairs and you can finally get his approval on your work, I wouldn't want to waste your time."

"Well, then I'm going to go back upstairs if you no longer need my services." If she had looked up, Lizzy would have seen his intent, beetled stare.

"Sure,"she at his finally leaving the shop, she checked to see the kettle was taking its usual sweet time in whistling and grabbed her beaded 'chatelaine' with its snip case, I-phone holder and keys in her hand, all the while struggling to keep hold of the heavy open tote while opening double doors to the 'dead zone', the hallway that ended in another set of doors to the green room and backstage.

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As the door slammed behind her Lizzy was shocked by a seeming immovable barrier that had inexplicably erected itself in front of her. "OOOF!"Said the barrier and herself simultaneously as her chatelaine and beads tumbled out of her grasp and onto the floor.

"Shit!" Said she.

"What's wrong?" Said the impenetrable barrier.

"Sonofabitch now I can't find my chatelaine,* Darcy."

"I'd be happy to help you find it," he flirted. "Especially if involves what I think it does."

"You mean crawling around on the floor in the dark trying to hurry before that blasted kettle goes off and that old burner starts a fire?"

"I don't think a chatelaine is what I thought it was…."

"What were you doing creeping around in the dark, anyway?"

"I could ask the same of you especially when I was very gentlemanly and offered to carry that thing. What business do you have carrying something so heavy when you clearly couldn't hold on to it?"

"Well your officiousness is especially gentlemanly. Thanks for pointing it out. And even more useful to me for crawling around on the floor to find my keys. I don't suppose you have keys or a phone."

"Why would I have keys or a phone when I can keep them down in the costume shop since you're still in there?"

"Because, dumbass, this hallway is always locked on both ends."

"You mean this hallway is completely locked?"

"Completely. Always. It's a security measure."

"In what possible way is it a security measure?"

"Well we're locked out, aren't we?"

"It would seem so. Either my keys went flying or the beads are tangled up in this mess that landed on the floor." How could her beloved chatelaine be so hard to find? It had to be all those stupid bits and baubles that were hanging from the beads. She was beginning to question the decision to keep them all together in the tote.

Lizzy would never tell him but she was seriously starting to panic. She knew it was a matter of time before that ancient burner burned the costume shop to the ground. It would be all his fault, Darcy and his stupid muscular body getting in her way. She grasped strands in the dark trying to feel the distinctive cases she'd made with such care, willing them into her grasp in vain.

Darcy grabbed her shoulders in the dark with the ease of a predator with nightvision. "Calm down. I helped you sort these once and I'll help again. Why don't we start re loading things we sort back into the tote so we know what we've checked?"

"Ok."

That was the easiest she'd ever agreed to one of his suggestions since they'd…Elizabeth could no longer resist the direction of her thoughts as she felt his hand brush against her, could smell his intoxicating scent and hear his breath.

She wondered if it would be too obvious if she brushed against a certain area…Lizzy continued to be occupied in this attitude, searching the floor on her knees while half listening for a kettle that never went off.

Darcy chivalrously suggested that he should crawl around on his hands and knees in the 12 foot square space and feel around for any stray beads. As he made his way around the small space, Darcy told her he only felt hard linoleum and then his head knocked into something else that was hard.

* * *

So, the theatre that I'm referencing had a door to the roof that a friend shared with me one time. It didn't lead to what Lizzy and Darcy get up to, though, not that kind of friend, and those were more innocent days... I'll just leave that clue there for you to anticipate more action.

I doubt I will get to another post this weekend, but maybe during the week if I get some comments. Thanks as always to my most faithful commenter loveinthebattlefield.

-W


	9. Chapter 9

Now you get to find out what I was talking about in the note from the last chapter- and there is HMS- so you are doubly warned!

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

* * *

 _The place where angels fell from_

 _MA- you've been warned-_

"OW! Sonofabitch what is that?" Darcy asked. 

"Ohmygosh, you may have done it!" 

"What? Don't tell me that's your chatelaine?" 

"Darcy, You just reminded me there's a ladder UP." 

"Up?" He was totally in the dark- not just in the literal sense. 

"Yes to the stars! That's why these two doors are locked." Lizzy's tone indicated the matter was obvious. 

Darcy, however, didn't see it that way. "Who in their right mind would scale the wall to burgle the green room? Or backstage or even the shop?" 

"I seriously can't believe you are taking time to question the motives of a theatre cat burglar at a time like this. Let's just go up there and see if we can find anyone down below to get us help." Lizzy insisted. 

As the two scaled the ladder they heard prickling skittering noises seeming to scuttle through the walls around them and even inside the ladder on which they climbed. It sounded like a million million ants and the sound reverberated inside their ears until the vibration was a sensation on their skin. 

"What the hell was that?" Lizzy's voice was scared. 

"I've heard it before. I think they are also the reason the kettle hasn't gone off." Darcy replied. 

"Well, what is it?" Her voice became impatient. 

"If I told you what I suspected, you wouldn't believe me. People generally find the unexplained to be unbelievable, and I really hate it when people think I'm the one who's crazy. I will say that I don't think it is anything that will harm us."

Lizzy's mind went back to his enigmatic replies and Wickham's assertion. It gave her a cold chill. He was right. She'd rather not know. Her silence conveyed this fact. She remained distracted by other pleasantries, anyway, and the troublesome thoughts were quickly discarded, for, as they climbed the ladder, Lizzy felt a warmth from behind. He half supported her on the last few rungs as she slowed her progression. He pushed open the trap door. Lizzy's head was reeling with his scent, the feeling of his hands…and then of being pinned down by his weight while under her, softness- not the gritty sandpaper of the roof top. Someone had put a blanket up here Lizzy realized, dimly. She succumbed. 

At first Darcy's mouth barely brushed hers. In agony she swept in again deeper as he grasped the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her loose bun. Relishing the control, Lizzy ran her lips down his neck, her tongue, lips and teeth teasing his sensitive skin. Darcy gasped in pleasure and he lightly pressed her head in a silent plea to continue.

She ran her tongue over his clavicle and along his shoulder. God, his arms were so sexy. She couldn't believe he was wearing a thin tee in this weather. She continued her journey down his arm, her mouth caressing the muscles on his upper arm, bicep, inner elbow, forearm, and wrist. Her tongue swirled in his palm, then took his sensual fingers into her mouth, one by one. She could tell from his hardness that Darcy had gotten the message. His eyes bore a scorching expression, his lips curved in an expression of passion. "Can't you tell what you do to me? If you don't intend to follow through, we need to stop now because you're driving me mad." 

"So don't stop." She whispered. 

Darcy dove for the crook of her neck. He commenced a torture of his own, suckling the sensitive place on her ribcage he'd discovered last time while he again held her hands down. She squirmed and cried out but he would not let her go as Darcy moved from her neck, turning her over grazing his teeth on her back, tracing his tongue around the shape of her shoulder blade as he pressed down.

With his free hand, Darcy used feather strokes moving up Lizzy's thigh, under her skirt. Lizzy moaned and gyrated her hips towards his touch, even as she struggled against the pleasure of his mouth bearing down on her ribcage. He had gotten her from 0 to almost orgasmic in moments.

Both had quickly forgotten their mission to call for help. Not that it would have been very successful on a Friday night when half the campus was at El Patio or the river. Their cries of passion also went unheard to anyone except each other. To Lizzy, it was as if she was in his body: when she touched him, her own body quivered synchronistically with delight. 

She played with his pendants, "I was curious about your necklaces earlier," she said, trying to sound nonchalant. His body closed the gap and she now felt his silky skin and the hardness of his member fully against her body. 

"Is that all you are curious about? My jewels?" Darcy nuzzled Lizzy as he spoke softly, her breath tickling his face, his lips meeting hers tentatively. They parted ever so subtly, feeling the energy like a wave slowly building up and up, waiting to careen into a sensual oblivion. He dove in again, this time his kisses were uncontrolled, lusciously (lustily) drinking her in, beckoning her deeper into himself. He shuttered as tip of her tongue ran along his lips and the roof of his mouth. Lizzy's curves filled up Darcy's body, his hands roaming her suppleness. Darcy slid his hands down her derriere, holding her legs as they wrapped around him. 

"I am also curious; what am I to you?" Lizzy asked breathlessly. Part of her didn't care, her body rippling with desire, needing to taste, feel, hold him. In the moment, the part of her that wanted him had far overtaken her inner objections. 

Darcy's breath now tickled her ear in the most agonizingly pleasurable way. His lips and tongue lightly played on her ear, and she both felt and heard his reply. "MORE, so much more." The words infused in the air, in his light kisses, in her breath, in their touch. 

She was powerless to the intense pleasure radiating toward her center as his light kisses and tickling teasing caresses seemed to float lower and lower, closer and closer there. He was teasing her mercilessly now, whispering kisses and lashing his tongue up her thighs, to the softness between. Lizzy knew her readiness for him was apparent through the now insubstantial leggings.

With the momentum of their pleasure in seconds Darcy peeled off her clothes and began his tantalizing attentions all over again, avoiding the center of her pleasure until she pleaded with him. Darcy moved in and deftly, lightly stroked, fingered, nibbled, and kissed her quivering sex to the agonizing edge of climax. He seemed to keep her on the very precipice even as he was assaulting her center, sending her shattering into an orgasm seeming to last an eternity. As she went into divine paroxysms Lizzy grasped Darcy's head and her fingers wrapped around his curls.

Darcy gasped for air and she pulled him up to her face, kissing him deeply, tasting herself on his mouth. The flavor of herself mingled with his own taste was intoxicating. They both had to gulp for breath in between smothering kisses.

Darcy's member found her moist space of its own accord as she was not aware of either of them shifting position. Darcy groaned as Lizzy stroked his rigid member, feeling the pulsating smoothness in her hands. She delighted in his tortured delight as her fingers teased his hardness, sliding it back and forth between her slick thighs. Awkwardly Darcy maneuvered into his jeans pocket for his wallet and the protection he always carried.

Lizzy then rolled the condom on, guiding Darcy into herself, attempting to furiously alleviate her ache inside and bring him to orgasm. He was shaking and Lizzy could see that his mighty attempts at restraining his release until it was apparent he could wait no longer. Darcy grabbed her hips and held them, plunging into her in long deliberate strokes, creating a frustratingly delightful build up. She stared into his eyes and comprehended the depth of their awareness, thoroughly enraptured by each others' warmth; seeing the energy enveloping him in colors and patterns that she could feel, taste.

The intensity with which he stared at Lizzy shook her insides as much as the second devastating orgasm that forcefully surprised her. Their rhythm was at a pinnacle, both possessed with desire for the other. Soon after she came down, Darcy's lips parted, his eyes rolled back, he embraced her tightly in a breathtaking kiss, and released into her, spasming ecstatically for what seemed eternity. His withdrawal from heaven was an eventuality; Darcy continued to embrace her thus, she felt him tenaciously holding onto every last ounce of pleasure.

Lizzy had to pull away to breathe, asking; "you still didn't tell me about your necklaces," tracing them on his chest with her finger.

Darcy laughed, nuzzling Lizzy. "Let this be what it is." His eyes flickered, taking her in, lightly placing his palm between her breasts near her heart. "Stories can wait. I want to just take this in." 

Lizzy looked at him with a wondering amusement, her nose and lips slightly twitching. "As you command," she bowed slightly, teasing. After that, calling for help didn't seem overly significant. The kettle had never gone off. Maybe the switch went off or maybe Lizzy had forgotten to turn on the burner. Whatever the reason, the shop never did burn down. 

* * *

_I think that I've found out_

Lizzy and Darcy slowly came down from their high and succumbed to fatigue, cocooned together in the blanket until the sounds of birdsong and the rays of dawn awoke them. She looked tentatively at him. "Hi." 

"Good morning,"he smiled at her sleepily, enfolding her in a strong embrace. 

She felt a little hemmed in, almost suffocated, yet uncertain as to her own response. She feared losing identity, freedom. "The keys." 

"I forgot." Darcy searched her face, as she looked down, awkwardly arighting herself. They made their way back down the ladder, leaving the door open to let in day light. Looking for the keys amongst the pile of beads was made easier in the otherwise dark theatre. Like a solstice marker, the rays of light illuminated Lizzy's chatelaine perfectly- a necklace with accoutrements that happened to be dangling from a key that was poised in the costume shop lock. 

"I didn't do that! Lizzy put her hands up, defensively. 

"I didn't say you had." She imagined his tone was a bit patronizing. 

"Some asshole is playing with us." Lizzy frowned at the thought. 

"Well at least we had an enjoyable evening…" .Darcy opined as the Lizzy unlocked the door and they both walked into the Costume shop. 

At just that moment a Maeve who was clearly a little worse for wear walked in, sunglasses still on. As she revealed her weary eyes, she exclaimed in synchrony with Lizzy "Look it's TEA!" Before them, a proper English tea was sitting at the table already prepared. The pot and cups was one used in the shop for special occasions. What was truly inexplainable were the poppyseed turnovers and cream ready to be served with the tea, which was perfectly steeped and steaming. 

Maeve was beaming. "Darcy, what a sweetie!" 

"He didn't do it." 

"Lizzy, you have to start giving him the benefit of the doubt." 

"I can't take credit for this." He looked meaningfully at Lizzy. "It's a mystery." 

"Seriously, Maeve. You know how you believe in faeries and the theatre ghost. I think it's one of those guys. That or Jane is playing a mean joke on us." 

"Entirely possible," Maeve conceded.

Lizzy could tell the wheels were turning in that woman's head, wondering why Lizzy was so certain it wasn't Darcy, noticing they were both wearing their clothes from the night before. Lizzy was grateful Maeve said nothing. Her eyes said it all, however, and Lizzy avoided them as much as possible. She couldn't avoid hearing Maeve's barely suppressed giggles from time to time. After tea, Lizzy said she needed to go home to 'check on some things' then she'd be back. Darcy, who needed to give no explanations to the other two, gave none. If either of them noticed Maeve's raised brows when they walked out together, neither mentioned it. 

"So, ah, how'd you do it?" Darcy said in a teasing voice. 

Lizzy turned around, her face flushed. "Do what, exactly? You think I engineered getting locked out to seduce you, don't you? After I'd just dismissed you from the shop and had the perfect opportunity?" His smile widened, like a predator knowing his prey was captured. "You really are arrogant." 

"Me?" Lizzy thought his grin incredibly insufferable. 

And with that, Lizzy started walking intently ahead of him, the tall Darcy practically jogging to keep up as she growled: "You've been trying to get into my pants for weeks. And you work with techies. I've seen Mythbusters*. I know what types of things they do with too much time on their hands. I imagine they can get pretty creative with the right inducement." 

"Now you're accusing me of bribing techies*? I think if they had the technology to seduce women, they'd be using it for themselves. I mean, look at most of them." He struggled to get her to look at him as she unlocked her car. After securing herself behind the wheel, she finally looked up at him. 

"Well a least they're not as full of themselves as SOME people I know!" And with that, Lizzy slammed her car door and sped off. 

Darcy asked after the speeding car, "Can't you take a joke? I knew it wasn't you. Shit." Darcy was in the habit of muttering to himself, jingling his keys as he walked back in to the theatre, unconscious of his route. When he realized he was again backstage near the scene of the crime, his eyes lit up in recognition. Unbelievable. Just at that moment he felt a ruffle on his head and Darcy saw a butterfly flutter past.

"I'd ask how that thing got in the theatre, but I already know how. How they ever got up enough energy to manifest an entire tea, now that's even more puzzling." He said softly aloud. "Yes, you're quite clever aren't you?" 

Lizzy kept her distance after 'that night'. Any prolonged one on one contact would lead to further relations of a kind she'd enjoyed far too much. He disconcerted her. She was too overwhelmed with questions about his association with Wickham, his warnings about the man, his continued pursuit, and finally the high strangeness of their last nocturnal encounter.

The show was an all-too-convenient outlet to avoid confronting them. Lizzy's every waking hour was spent either making lists, shopping, patterning, sewing, or doing what homework she could fit in. She was grateful for the busyness.

*mourning jewelry in the Victorian Era often held locks of a deceased loved one's hair in intricate arrangements, ie brading/weaving etc

* chatelaine- a cool accessory used with chains and rings on a central sort of medallion that used to carry keys, smelling salts, sewing accessories, etc. Lizzy is being a clever stylish costumer by putting her sewing stuff/etc on one.

*techies are people who work on the stage/ lighting crew or do other non costume backstage work, especially people involved in any construction of the sets, props, or involved in lighting or sound. Adam and Jamie from Mythbusters are basically super duper techies. 

* * *

_When personality is scar tissue_

Darcy spent the next several days immersed in his own self imposed artistic bubble. He avoided the shop, sending any communications through the Stage Manager. He had good reason to avoid her and her kin, having made an unwelcome discovery one particular lunchtime. Darcy had gone to the North 40 the day after 'that night'. He spotted Mrs Bennet eating there with Mercedes Lucas.

Francesca Bennet was in her usual form, exclaiming with glee: "Mary won several grand champion ribbons for her prize produce including Heirloom Tomatoes, Yellow Onions, Kale, Red Leaf Lettuce, Eggplant, Zucchini, Green Grapes, and some rare Heirloom Apples. Her jealous competitors were, quite suspicious that Collins's presence was the reason she won! She has learned about increasing the diversity of her garden, and the two determined to make changes when the time was right, such as ordering some insects- bees, ladybugs, that sort of thing, but she's those changes are in the planning stage. Her rivals are hypocrites, too, because they're also some of Mary's best customers! 

"If he takes such a great interest in our Mary, why must he spend a good deal of time as a guest in the FFA greenhouse, at any number of 4-H meetings, and visiting more than four and twenty family farms? At least either Mary, your father or I am usually in his company owing to our extensive connections in 4-H, FFA and Ag! It would be triumph to secure such a man as my son-in-law. Surely with his fame and position, he needs a wife to ground him and further his career. And a wedding would do well to show off Mary and his proficiencies where the garden is concerned. A wedding near the garden and in the orchard in the first part of summer would be just the thing. It would look so good in that blog of his. If course I take credit for putting them together. I called his attention to Mary that first night." 

Darcy was only peripherally interested in the conversation because he gained intelligence that one of his Aunt's grant recipients was, apparently, dating Mary Bennet. Of more interest would be if Mrs Bennet spoke of another Bennet daughter. He was disappointed:

"Isn't this meal delicious? Wickham is a fantastic chef and I've been treated to his meals at my own home a number of times. Lizzy is always pushing the good men away. I understand that she had the opportunity to get together with him this summer in Colorado but she didn't. Of course Lydon is the one who told me about it. He was certainly satisfied with himself to tell tales.

But, at least Wickahm didn't take Lizzy's slight personally. He's paid a great deal of attention to our family anyway, and we're quite taken with the young man. Who knows, maybe he's hoping Lizzy will change her mind, thankless girl. She does seem to be only at home when he's making dinner. Of course the girl could stand to lose a few pounds, but if the way to her heart is through her stomach, who am I to complain? I would welcome a chef as son in law!" 

Darcy almost became ill that moment. Instead, he got up, mid meal, paid and left. He couldn't eat the rest of the day. He spent it painting, yet hyperalert to the sound of the costume shop door opening and closing every so often. He considered hiding each time.

What was he to do? He was unlikely to gain intelligence from Bingley. Bingley had enough to occupy him at the moment. Besides, Bingley had never heard Jorge and Wickham's story in full. He simply accepted Jorge for who he was, without needing any further explanation about how a former family friend played a part in the Darcys' lives.

Darcy finally gave up and went back to Netherfield. He was ruminating on the veranda when Bingley burst in. "Come on, Darcy, I won't have you moping about any longer in this pathetic manner. You do little but paint and sulk. I order you: come to the dance. You must. It's for a good cause and we'll be supporting Jane, after all. She's been practicing for days and is quite good." 

Darcy rolled his eyes, "For me to be in a barn full of people who find me dull and pretentious, and one in particular who finds me intolerable- No, that would be insupportable." 

"Well take this as an opportunity to practice. Go, and bid on Kitty's Vanilla Wafer Cake or Mary's heirloom tomatoes. That will set you up forever in good graces with Elizabeth's mother. She'd certainly encourage her daughter to date you." 

Darcy wanted to say more about Elizabeth's mother's idea of a good date for Lizzy but though the better of it. He merely chuffed out an incredulous "Right!" 

Charles persisted: "Before the dance is a sale, and the Bennets have several winning items. Mary practically has a whole garden in there. Oh, and Kitty is Fair Queen, and Jane, being a past fair queen, is performing. I believe I've remembered it all. You should see Mrs. Bennet, running around like chicken out at the fair with all the 4-H activities"

Darcy couldn't help but imagine Mrs. Bennet as a chicken, in some kind of weird 4-H regalia, running around at a fair, and the thought made him chuckle, despite himself. "See? Just the thought amuses you. Your problem is that you've been looking in the wrong places. And I think you feel the same about a certain lively Bennet of your own". 

"She's not my lively Bennet. She thinks I'm an asshole. For all I know she's moved on." Darcy had assumed a sulking attitude, chin thrust under his knuckles. 

"You can be an asshole, but she seems to hold her own just fine. Darcy, is something troubling you?"Darcy was about to answer when Caroline sashayed in. 

"Where are we going?" 

Charles flicked his eyes over to his sister and answered shortly, "To a dance, Caroline." 

"I'd love to dance." She twirled dramatically in emphasis. Her dress flicked Darcy in the face. He was certain he accidentally inhaled a bit of lace. 

It was Charles's turn to roll his eyes, "Since when have you western danced in a barn with a sawdust floor, Caroline?" 

His question had the desired effect, "Ewwww. Maybe not." 

To Darcy, the only thing worse than going to a county fair was the possibilities Caroline considered as she was eyeballing him at that moment. "Alright, Bingley, I guess I need to at least make an effort with Elizabeth…what should I wear?" 

"Oh, Darcy IS going? Well I wouldn't want to leave him alone in a barn full of savages. Just give me a few minutes to get ready, Charles." Both men looked at each other accusingly, as if to say, surely it's your fault she's going. Neither said a word. 

* * *

_Moved through the fair_

Bingley, Caroline and Darcy drove out to the fairgrounds, found the barn, and wove their way up the bleachers to find a good view. Throughout the evening, Caroline made several comments Darcy knew they were intentionally made to sound derogatory to the Bennets. 

She would say things like "oh, that girl over there," (pointing to a candidate that lost to Kitty), "she didn't get anything? Why I think she should have gotten a princess award. Look at how she carries herself and look at how pretty she is!" 

When the bake sale started, Darcy had to concentrate to understand what the auctioneer was saying so he could make bids. Caroline made comments such as "biscuits, how quaint! I don't believe I've had those since my maid used to make them for us- country food is so Paula Deen 2005. Don't these people here know that Paleo is the thing now?" 

It took a great deal of focus to listen, keep track and bid on the Bennets baked goods as Bingley had suggested they do. Darcy gave Caroline several dirty looks and terse comments that were growing louder with each superfluous comment Caroline made. 

However, when she realized her gesturing made her almost inadvertently bid on an item, Caroline quit protesting. She fumed at the whims of Charles, blaming him for Darcy's new fixation. 

As the bake sale ended and the show was being set up, Darcy unthinkingly sought out Lizzy. Heedless of previous rejection, or a potential rival, he was before her, imploring "Would you save a dance for me on your card?" 

Lizzy looked at him archly. She had taken time that day from school to help her family, but couldn't get Wickham's earlier comments of the day out of her head. Wickham had been at the fair too, helping Lydon with the lambs and hanging out at the rodeo. He made a point of talking about Darcy again when Lizzy was around, mentioning Darcy's numerous conquests of models, patrons, and those he mentored, but stated his most 'ardent' relationships- and rendezvous- were thespian in nature.

With those comments in mind, she responded to Darcy _:_ "I thought you couldn't wait to get out of here I understand from an old friend that the theatre favorite spot for you and the ladies." Darcy stared at her darkly and quietly asked to speak with her outside. Nervously Lizzy followed him, as if pulled by an invisible magnet.

She came to lean against the barn's metal siding and he leaned over her, speaking "I'm not sure what you mean. I assure you I don't have 'plans' to seduce other women. I was only trying to get to know you better and show you I can branch out from my comfort zone. I think my actions speak for themselves: I only have attention for you. You were very clear about wanting me and I enjoyed the times we've shared and so did you. For that I won't apologize. But perhaps you're right and I was acting prematurely.

If you find me an object of disgust or if your interests have turned to (he winced) another man, tell me and I will stop bothering you. But at least go with a man who deserves you, and not Wickham. I'm sure he made himself quite charming to you this summer and if he is interested in you, he will go a long way to ingratiate himself upon your family. But, if he doesn't get what he wants, he can become volatile. I learned the hard way. Wickham would do anything to revenge himself on me and if he knows…." 

She looked up, eyes blazing,"I've not told him anything! And my interests have certainly not turned his way, or any way, for that matter! After our (she looked around ) two –er- encounters, how could you even think such a thing? And what happened between you and Wickham?" 

"I'm not at liberty to say, since it involves my family, and that is precisely why I my imagination ran a little wild." He looked at her with an inscrutable expression. 

"There you go again. How can you expect me to believe that you take me seriously? You don't tell me anything of substance. You wanted me to be open? What Wickham said- it doesn't ring true but you aren't doing yourself any favors." Breathing heavily, Lizzy felt a dull ache in the hollow below her sternum, and she felt ears behind her eyes. She tried to gather her thoughts- there were so many questions she had for Darcy.

She looked up to see him bow and shake his head, turning for the door. Lizzy was compelled to grab Darcy's forearm in an attempt to keep him from walking away. When she did, a warm beam of energy shot between them. She could tell he felt it too, as he froze. "Wait! I apologize. I do want to know you. Besides that, I don't know what I want. You're just… a ball of contradiction."

"Miss Bennet, maybe you should be as skeptical of what others tell you as you are of my words." Elizabeth's eyes were wide and questioning. "At least give me an equal chance." She had difficulty processing his words, her body conscious of his own hard, immobile body pressed again against hers.

"The story of Wickham is simply not mine to tell. Surely there is some other way that I can earn your trust. There must be some other way to proceed." Darcy said softly as he stood over her, still frozen. "Tell me what I can do. I obviously lack the knack of knowing what is acceptable to you." 

She was about to answer him but was interrupted by Mary who had located her sister, warning her the music was about to start. Lizzy placed her hand on his chest and he looked at her hopefully. "For now, why don't we take advantage of the moment, and just dance. I will show you. That is at least a start."

He nodded his head in agreement. Lizzy put Darcy's hands in the the correct placement on her waist and in her own hand, then showed him the steps. Darcy was a quick study, their bodies moving together to their own tune. He pressed her closely and she felt quite in danger of another heady kiss. 

Quickly Lizzy stopped, moving away, her voice bright, taking charge. "Alright, let's go. I don't want to miss my sister," Lizzy said. She was glad they were in semi darkness so that Darcy could not see the heat on her face. She was certain he could have felt her heart beating through her clothes. 

They got onto the dance floor just as the band had finished setting up and sound checking. The band introduced Jane as their special guest. Jane first sang and played with the band a country cover version of U2's Elevation. The dance was fast and Darcy and Lizzy laughed trying to keep up with the music, Darcy struggling with the 2 steps in one direction then one in the opposite. 

Both were a little distracted as they tried to watch Jane and dance. Lizzy kept accidentally leading as she continued to coach him until the song ended. _"Why don't you dance more? You have an excellent 2-step!"_

"Thank you." His eyes shone as Darcy stared at Lizzy. "I consider that a great compliment, knowing that you give out compliments only to those who deserve them in your estimation. Frankly I can't do any of those other dances."

The music slowed down with the next song. Jane did another country version of a cover, this time she sang Dancing Barefoot, dedicating it to Lizzy. The crowd, many of whom knew the Bennets, started applauding. Blushing at the attention was about to leave the dancefloor when Darcy tightened his grip on her ever so slightly and plaintively applied to Lizzy: "You can't abandon me now, I just started learning. Come on, help me," Darcy waited for her reply to his request, gently teasing, "it's just a dance, surely you won't mind another go." 

"It's just a dance," Lizzy tried to laugh it off. Her head was spinning. She couldn't help but notice the way his hand felt in hers, the way he lightly touched the small of her back, the way their bodies would brush each others' with the song's movements. She wouldn't be able to handle the intensity of emotion if she looked into his eyes while Jane was singing those words, 'some strange music draws me in, makes me come on like some heroine'.

Instead, Lizzy looked the rest of him over more closely. Tonight Darcy took an effort to fit in. Still he managed to be one notch up, slightly off from the other men tonight- even the young bucks. He looked like a classic western hero, wearing what looked like a vintage western tux jacket, not unlike one Lizzy had seen in aunt Phil's store. Could it be?

Lizzy forgot to ask Darcy, as she was so taken with what she saw after he discarded the blazer to dance. He was wearing a finely woven shirt with western detailing that reminded her of Brandon's Springsteen phase*, or of Springteen himself. The shirt showed off his broad back and lean but smooth physique and his arms rippled under the shirt. It was unbuttoned enough so that Lizzy could see his chest was fairly bare and there was an interesting naja type pendant hanging around his neck from an oxblood leather thong. Other pendants hung inside his shirt from chains of varying textures. The shirt was also open at the wrists -even his wrists were sexy. It made her want to unbutton the rest of the shirt and see him again.

She again noticed how well Darcy filled out black skinny jeans which accentuated his ….bunchage. He again had on his cowboy boots.

The wave of attraction emanated from him, like the song said, seeming to pull her in. When the dance ended, Lizzy stood there in a daze, seconds like hours- hours that she both wanted to continue and to end. Lizzy's eyes smiled, her lips just slightly turned up, expression pensive.

Darcy enjoyed his vantage point, dancing slowly with Lizzy. So very kissable, he thought, as they whirled around the dance floor. Darcy was becoming accustomed to the two step, to the feel of Lizzy in his arms, when the music stopped. Each had been lost in their own feelings when they dazedly realized Jane's song was over and started clapping their eyes never leaving the other's.

* * *

* not sure how much I have to explain that at fairs there is at least 1 if not multiple sales for winners, not only of winning livestock but winning baked goods. I think it depends on how big the fair is as to how many sales they are. In my hometown it was quite the social event with a dance afterward ( I seem to recall, anyway. I grew up in 4-H and maybe my blue ribbon biscuits made the sale, I'm not sure. If anyone finds this to be in error, let me know and I will correct it. As I said- I do believe the number and extent of sales depends on whether it is a small fair or a large one.

I would so very much love it if you would review. Newbies and lurkers are very welcome.

* Brandon Flowers from The Killlers (formerly? did they break up?) He went through a Bruce Springsteen phase during Sam's Town and subsequent albums bear his influence as did Flowers's style.


	10. Chapter 10

Something to tide you all over and make up for the infrequent postings of late.

Hi to my followers! Thanks for following me :)

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own. 

* * *

_I know that I can make it_

Lydon sought her out for the next dance and Darcy politely ceded her hand. Lydon was in full country mode, an act he put on in front of select audiences. "My, ain't you popular, sis! Lydon teased. Maybe I better get out my gun after all. Or maybe I'll just invite him over for an old fashioned chaperoned courting in the parlor!" 

She groaned."Lydon! I am having enough trouble; I don't need your shenanigans." 

"Well introduce me to the man who I gather is your beau and maybe I'll behave. If you don't, I will introduce myself, and who knows how that might turn out! From what Wicked tells me that man needs a good threatening. I'd be happy to scare him off if you like." With that, Lydon stopped, and turning, yelled to the crowd: "Anyone who wants to mess with my sister has to go through me first." He flexed his muscles in emphasis "This ain't my only gun show!" 

Lizzy was mortified to see Darcy's astonished expression as he turned to speak animatedly at Bingley and Jane. Lizzy then pulled Lydon back, away from the crowd. "Dammit! Why do you always have to be such a pain?" 

"Who else is there to bug you?" Lizzy spent the remaining seconds blackmailing her brother to behave, reminding him that she and their other siblings were in possession of a great deal of incriminating evidence on Lydon's escapades while still underage. He scowled and agreed to behave. The song ended and Lizzy warily made her way through the crowd introducing Lydon and Darcy, who had resumed a skulking position on the bleachers, sitting with Jane and Bingley. 

Despite her warnings, baby brother proceeded to interrogate Darcy about manly things, asking about how much he could bench press, what types of guns he owned and the like. The conversation was like a bizarre sketch with caricatures of Republicans and Democrats on Fox where the red pundits comically eviscerate their opponents for not living up to their own made up standards. She watched in horror as Darcy answered in the negative to question after question, until Lydon said something, and then Darcy answered something (she couldn't hear what) through his clenched jaw, directed at Lydon, and then stalked off.

Lizzy growled to Lydon "What did you do?" 

Lydon waved her off. "Sheesh, first Jane then you. At least her boyfriend laughed. He could tell it was a joke. He said something to me about comprehendin' a great deal in an accomplished man. He's such a priss." 

"What. Did. You. Say?" Petite Lizzy had her 6'2 baby brother by the ear and was pulling, hard. 

"OWW! I only said that if he was going to go any further than second base with you he'd better put a ring on it, or he'd have to answer to me and my gun show." She twisted harder, knowing with Lydon there was more to the story, he yelped louder then offered up, "Alright, I also told him that I had a friend named Wickham who would help. He didn't have to be all impolite about it." 

She twisted again and he yelled, which caused her mother to look up. Both siblings sensed her from across the room and Lizzy immediately let go and pushed him away, "You didn't! Lydon!" 

"I thought it was hilarious. I'll have to try it with Collins, that'll make him pee his pants! Mary will be mad. I can't wait to see what she'd do!" Lydon cackled and ran off looking for his sister and her boyfriend. 

Lizzy tried to talk to her mother about Lydon, but Francesca was still on chicken mode and wouldn't allow her daughter a word in edgewise, instead attempting to include her in clean up duties that night. She huffed and went to find her father who laughed uproariously, dismissing his son's antics. "Your beaux must be made of stout stuff, otherwise they'd not survive your sibling's silliness, not to mention your mother's. Might as well leave it." 

Lizzy looked for Darcy but he was nowhere to be found in the barn, nor was he in his original hiding place. Giving up temporarily, she assumed Darcy finally had enough of this hoedown and left. She decided to look for Jane to congratulate her, then possibly get in some conversation with her or Charlotte. 

"Darcy seems to be very taken with you. He stares after you like a love sick puppy when you aren't looking, you do realize that, don't you?" Noted Charlotte, as Lizzy approached. 

She shook her head. "The man is so confusing. I don't know if I'm cut out for him." 

"You could do worse. Sometimes it is practical to give a good man a chance and see if it grows into love. He could be the Stieglitz to your OKeefe!*" 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Lizzy stepped back, her hand on her hip. 

Charlotte shook her head and chuckled, "I'm just sayin." 

Lizzy sighed heavily. "I am trying to give him a chance- The man is far too circumspect half the time, however." She paused. "And what about you? I thought you were supposed to be my friend, therefore on *my* side. What about what I want?" 

Charlotte persisted. "Do you know what you want, Lizzy? You act as confused as Lydon. From what I've seen at your house, I'd say Lydon was trying to impress that guy Wickham, of all people. He never tries that hard with all the rodeo groupies that hang all over him." 

Lizzy's voice rose. "Charlotte, do you have a notebook where you're taking notes for case studies? Stop doing the psychologist thing on me." 

Charlotte quickly put her arm around her friend. "Oh, honey, I didn't mean to upset you. Come on, let's go sit down and talk. Jane can wait. I'm sure Bingley's congratulating her enough for the both of us." 

When the two sat on the bleachers, Lizzy found her eyes aching for a second time, tears again behind them. "I don't understand what's going on! Wickham was supposedly treated badly by Darcy, a fact he makes very plain. 

Wickham is the one who's comfortable around my family. He's practically a fixture. Sure he was quite wild this summer but now he's everything affable and the whole family considers him a friend. I don't entirely trust the man and yet I respect the way he's managed even my mother. When he told me about his prior connection to Darcy, he painted a very unflattering picture of him. And yet- there certainly seems to be something missing from the story. Especially if his odd behavior this summer is anything to go on. 

When I'm with Darcy, at times his behavior is completely consistent what Wickham's description; he's snobby, disdainful and seems to treat … uh … people.. like objects. Then other times he says things with such intensity and is so believable that I am drawn in. I don't know why I'm even interested in him; he's so socially inept- we had such good- er- time the other night in the costume shop, then we got into a fight and he avoids me. Now he practically corners me and asks me about Wickham, and watches me like a hawk." 

Charlotte soothed, "Well, people are contradictory, but that doesn't mean he's not worth your interest. I can see how he talks to you, laughs with you, and obviously listens. You flirt with him mercilessly- clearly the man is dumbstruck, then expect him to turn around and have a deep conversation at the drop of a hat. Do you even realize that is a little much to expect? He's not psychic, and he probably needs space to explain himself. You can be pretty intense sometimes. He probably just took off to think, and I don't blame him." 

"Why cant I just be who I am and not worry so much about our communication?" Lizzy's eyes were pleading. 

"It's because this could really be something serious, and that is a threat to your self concept. People in love are usually self conscious." Charlotte put her arm around Lizzy. 

Lizzy rolled her eyes, "Ha! Think again, matchmaker. Speaking of being in love, when is it going to be your turn? Like with a certain cousin of Darcy's?" 

The arm around Lizzy tensed. "When is it? That's a good question. Smart academic types like me, we're late bloomers. I'm waiting my turn, but watch out when it waltzes into your life in a motherfucking kilt and seduces you with his… Anyway, when your opportunity comes up (like now), make sure you don't miss your turn and that is all I will say on the subject for now." 

Lizzy shook her head good naturedly then hugged her friend. "Fine, but this isn't the last you've heard from me. Let's find Jane." 

PPPxoxNMxoxPPPxoxNMxoxPPPxoxNM 

Shortly after, the two pulled Jane in the middle of a hug as trio excitedly chattered about Jane's performance. Soon they were at the center of a crowd as person after person approached, shook hands or hugged Jane and congratulated her.

Bingley stood back and beamed, mesmerized by her presence. When the music started and well wishers disbursed, Bingley came out of his thoughts and took Jane out on the dance floor to enjoy some music. The two remained engrossed in each others' company whether dancing or sitting a song out.

Darcy decided to get some fresh air after Lydon's uncouth but believable threat at bodily harm (along with Wickham, no less!) if Darcy hurt his sister. He'd assured Lydon of his honorable intentions as best he could but was a bit shaken at Lydon's ferocity. Charles just looked on and laughed. He couldn't believe his friend. What was he thinking? It was gregarious Charles, of course he could believe it.

If that weren't bad enough, he had the bad fortune to encounter a simpering hipster in a ridiculous 80s colorblock shirt who recognized him, not for his artistic achievements but for his Aunt Catalina, of all people. "Well if it isn't the nephew of the distinguished head of Rosings Foundation. Charmed, I'm sure. I know all about you. Your aunt says nothing but good things. Oh, I forgot, my name is Collins. I'm here on the prestigious Foundation grant, studying farming techniques. I don't think I flatter myself to say they are learning a lot of my new techniques. I know my little flower is!"

It was at this moment he realized a woman was on his arm. She had medium coloring, of slighter build than either older sister, but had features that were a combination of Lizzy and Jane. She extended her hand and spoke her name, Mary Bennet. As she and Darcy shook hands, Collins blathered on, "I am certainly increasing her yield if you know what I mean." Darcy looked down in shock, not knowing what to day.

If he'd have looked up, he'd have seen only a pleased look on Mary's face. "These Bennet girls are something else, as I've heard that you've discovered. I for one don't give any credence to that Wickham fellow's accusations. I'm sure there is a good reason for your supposed misdeeds. Even though he's a good cook, he must have a past. I know that Catalina let him go. It was all very hush hush, you know."

Darcy finally gathered his wits. "Yes, I do know. Since it is hush, hush, I would imagine that your distinguished boss wouldn't appreciate you talking about it, would she?"

"Oh dear! Well, rest assured Mary, here, will be as silent as the grave on this topic." She tore her adoring gaze away from Collins to nod seriously. 

* * *

Son, I Think You Better Go Ahead

He made excuses to the odd couple, returned inside and ascended the steps to the darkest corner he could find, having decided to linger in the shadows if he must to avoid any more Bennets and observe the object of his fascination. He did not anticipate spending time with the other people in the barn, people with whom Darcy figured he had next to nothing in common.

Darcy's behavior belied his disinterest, and people at the dance who noticed took it as snobbery. Darcy was completely oblivious to the manner in which he was perceived as he was intent on one goal, spending more time with Lizzy. 

He was grateful for one thing; Caroline's attentions had significantly tapered off that evening. It started when Lucas introduced Darcy and the Bingley siblings to one of Dona Maria's wealthiest citizens, prominent world traveler and patron of the arts Mike _. Caroline was clearly taken by his distinguished elder rock star air and suddenly she had attention only for him. Not that Darcy kept track, but the couple actually danced a slow one or two then disappeared. He didn't bother to ask Bingley if Caroline had 'gotten a ride'. He already knew of her proclivities and was glad to no longer be in her radar. 

He was left to stand alone drinking warm soda he'd spiked with a little bit of Ketel 1 from his flask. Darcy wasn't a lush, and usually kept the flask as more of a fashionable accessory and heirloom than anything else. It came in handy for a different purpose tonight. It took the edge off of his anxieties as Darcy watched Lizzy perpetually surrounded by people, chatting and dancing away.

He took the opportunity to notice every detail about her and imagine what he'd do about each. She was wearing a low cut fitted vest over a sheer tunic that covered strategic areas which he fantasized about dipping fingers into. Her lightweight handkerchief skirt completed the look, making him think of Stevie Nicks. Darcy could almost feel the texture of her body under the fabric in which she was swathed. Darcy could see a lot of leg through her ever so slightly sheer black leggings. Her shoes were high heeled boots which he very much wanted to unlace and make her toes curl. Lizzy's hair framed her face in front, curls pinned up on the sides and tumbling down her back, leaving her ears and neck exposed a place he most certainly wanted to revisit. He could taste the perfume behind her ears as he kissed her. 

If Darcy was nervous around Lizzy before, it was heightened to almost paralysis in his private fantasies as he watched her move among people that were so clearly out of his sphere. Darcy had no clue what to say in this situation, he didn't have acreage to harvest or herds to tend. His only concern over the weather was dressing for it, not worrying if it would devastate his earnings for the year.

These were fans of the Cowboys, NASCAR, guns and Coors, and Darcy could not relate, as he disliked all of these things. And of course, he didn't know the people about whom they gossiped and by the sound of things, he didn't care to. He sighed. Perhaps if he did pursue Lizzy, they truly would not have a thing to say after the passion wore off. 

"Mind if I have a nip?" Darcy was interrupted by none other than Lizzy's father, Edward Bennet. Just what he was trying to avoid. As if to read Darcy's mind, "They are a bit overwhelming, aren't they?" 

Darcy stiffened. "Oh, it's great, I'm having a good time, just a little tired." 

"A little tired of comparing meaningless hobbies like shooting and comparing the size of your- ahem- biceps?" Edward took a sidelong look at Darcy. "Or maybe it's from discussing at length illustrious family connections, or avoiding such discussions? No, couldn't imagine that."

Darcy raised his eyebrow, turning up his lips ever so slightly. "Son, you could use a little humor. You're a quiet type like me. I imagine you could laugh at the follies of certain ridiculous relations if you wanted to. After all, I've heard quite enough about Catalina." Edward's eyes twinkled. This earned a chuckle out of Darcy, who handed the flask over to Edward.

The two continued sharing spirits, silent companions in the semi darkness. "You know, I'm not a local. I was born on a ranch in Arizona, to a family considered elite by rancher standards, you know, we were – are- close friends with the former Chief Justice*. We had been neighbors. Even with illustrious connections by farming and ranching standards, I don't fit in here. I know I look like it, but I don't. I enjoy the quiet, out sitting on a horse, just watching the breeze on the brush, or else being in the solitude of my library, sipping some good tequila and reading something like Bless Me Ultima. Much more relaxing than bothering with people." 

"How did you end up here?" Darcy asked. 

"Well, like I said, I do enjoy the solitude of the range and couldn't imagine living in a city. I loved to read everything I could get my hands on as a boy. I'd take a horse out and go to a favorite ridge or watering hold to read and enjoy nature. My older brother was the working cowboy- spending his spare time shooting, hunting and the like, when he wasn't helping dad with the business side of things. I still did all the cowboy things, like help out with the branding and such.

But I got a scholarship and went to school, expecting that as the baby of the family I'd have to make my own way and happily so. Big brother has the ranch. I met Francesca when I was visiting some old FFA friends out here in college and we became sweethearts, traveling back and forth from New Mexico to Arizona. I was lucky to get a job here after I finished at U of A, and, well, here I am." Mr Bennet took another drag. "This is some decent hooch." 

Darcy nodded his head in acknowledgment. "Glad to oblige. It's good getting to know you. I enjoy reading Anaya myself."* 

"Say, son, I was thinking it sure would be nice to get outta here and relax in my library. You're staying on the back quarter of the old Netherfield farm, aren't you? Care to join me back at our house? It's close by and I could drop you off if you needed it. I have a little collection of good liquors in my study. We could compare books." 

"Let me just see if that will work for Bingley," Darcy and Edward arranged that Darcy would ride back with him. Caroline, who had also rode in with Bingley, was having far too much fun with her new friend Mike. This suited Bingley just fine, as he realized another perfect opportunity to have Jane alone to Netherfield. 

* OKeefe and Steiglitz- artist/photographer couple who ended up in NM. She is well known for her close up flower paintings.

* Sandra Day O'Connor, for those who don't know, grew up on an Arizona Ranch. This is based off her.

*Bless Me Ultima- by Rudolfo Anaya- a New Mexico classic. 

* * *

Carry Me Home

Some mature content 

Darcy and Edward took their leave of the fair and cloistered themselves in Edward's study. Darcy admired the rolltop desk which Edward said he'd inherited from his grandfather; he noticed several first editions of classic western authors as well as southwest literature from respected Native American, and Latino authors.* 

For the next 3 hours or so, Darcy and Edward enjoyed a few rounds of Patron Silver while discussing the contents of their respective libraries and southwestern arts in general. Darcy was feeling more than relaxed. In fact, he realized that he wasn't quite sure if he was fit to drive the few miles to Netherfield. Edward suggested that Darcy use the spare bedroom upstairs. Too intoxicated to formulate another plan, Darcy readily agreed. 

Edward gave Darcy a Pendleton and an extra pair of pajamas to use. Darcy took a Denise Chavez book into the room with him thinking that he could read a little before turning in. The upstairs was situated above Edward's study, secluded from the rest of the house, but was also far from a washroom. Darcy had been reading and dozing when came to realize his need to use the washroom at about midnight. 

He was wearing black boxer briefs, his pendants and nothing else. Darcy donned the robe and hesitantly snuck downstairs as quietly as he could. He wasn't sure of the stairs were creaky or if the Patron was wearing off, but he felt certain the creaking steps could be heard half a mile away. He snuck through the kitchen in the dark looking for the washroom in an unfamiliar house. 

Before he could do anything, the front door burst open and Elizabeth stood before him. Darcy moved quickly behind a chair and pulled the robe tightly, realizing too late that the garment's belt was still upstairs. "What are you doing in my kitchen in Dad's old robe?" Lizzy demanded. 

"Shhhh. You'll wake someone." 

She again asked the same question in a loud whisper, shutting the front door, making her way into the kitchen. Darcy's eyes were wide, his breath growing heavier as Lizzy moved closer. "Have you been drinking? Dad brought you back here for some tequila, didn't he? I should have known." 

"Shhhh." Darcy clutched the dinette chair until his knuckles were white, as if holding for dear life on to his pent up lust. 

"I'm whispering. Don't tell me you have a headache already." She moved closer, wearing an amused expression. She asked, "What are you doing standing behind the chair?" Her damn eyebrow was cocked. She knew why he was standing behind the chair, he could tell. 

"Looking for the washroom." Darcy felt helpless as he felt her warm body so close to his side they almost touched. He wanted to reach out and press Lizzy to himself. 

"Well you won't find it behind the chair. Let me show you where it is. " 

Darcy followed Lizzy around the corner and suddenly found himself standing in front of Lizzy in a washroom. He was lightheaded, intoxicated by the tequila and by the vision of her in the dark before him. Reaching out to steady himself against the wall, he effectively blocked Lizzy in. It was all so unintentional but he couldn't resist lingering. He could feel Lizzy's heart race as she weakly attempted to maneuver around him. Darcy's face was inches from hers. He was sure he didn't imagine her sharp intake of breath, and he imagined she could smell the tequila and his spicy cologne.

She licked her lips, her eyes searching out his form in the dimness, her body otherwise frozen in place. Without thinking, Darcy put his other hand against the wall, trapping Lizzy between his arms. Passion threatened to take over Darcy; he thought he could feel every ounce of blood coursing through his body. It all seemed to be pooling in one place, like a dam ready to burst. In a strangled voice, he told her, "It's too much. I want you too much." Darcy regarding Lizzy intensely, taking in every inch of her face and body as he awaited a response. 

Their bodies were close. He knew Lizzy felt his arousal, held back by the thin soft fabric of black boxer briefs. "So that's why you were hiding behind the chair." She whispered, teasingly. Darcy's bare chest was so irresistibly close, she reached out to stroke it. With her touch, his breathing grew more and more labored. 

They were interrupted by stirring on the other side of the house, likely someone else using a washroom as the familiar sound of rushing water followed. This realization cooled their ardor in the moment and gave Darcy pause. "I was wondering how likely we are to be discovered." 

"What if we were?" She had resumed stroking his chest, maddening woman. 

He hoped she would only stop her actions if it meant they progressed to greater intimacy. His thoughts were distracted: "Well I'd be concerned about my mortality considering the number of guns in this house and your brother's threat." 

"Other than that?" Damn, but her hand had stopped right at his stomach. 

"Well, I'd say that's pretty big." Darcy said. He had tensed up, for more than one reason. 

"Don't worry, Lydon doesn't mean anything by it. Besides he'll probably stay out at the fair. His truck isn't in the driveway. And my dad is harmless- unless you could be teased to death. Jane's car isn't here, either (not that she'd do anything). Mom and Kitty are staying in our pull- out at the fair tonight and Mary is with her new boyfriend. So it would seem you're safe for the time being, except from me." Lizzy interspersed these last reassurances with light kisses along his collarbone. 

He gasped. "Well, if we won't be discovered, I can think of a few things to do…" 

As if the house itself didn't approve of this plan, the clock struck 3 and Lizzy noticed the time. "Geez it's late. I've got to get some sleep." 

"Where will you do that?" Darcy asked, the back of his hand caressing the side of Lizzy's face, his fingers entwining in some stray curls. 

"William, we need to sleep separately. Dad is in the house and even though he may be mellow about us being together, he'd give us hell if he found us in my bed."

Darcy sighed at her use of his first name. He wasn't sure but it sounded like she was serious. Still, he whispered his persuasive argument as to why he should be allowed in her bed, promising that he wouldn't likely be able to fall asleep anyway, that he would leave in the wee hours anyway. To his delight, she acquiesced, flushing. He remembered the way she felt in his arms.

If he couldn't take her in bed, at least he could hold her. She curled up facing him. Captivated by the nymph in his embrace, true to his word Darcy found little sleep. He wanted to stay there all night but, uncertain of his reception in the morning, crept back to the upstairs room and lay there thinking about the delights that a pair of fine eyes can bestow. He took a token to remind him of these peaceful hours.

With early light, Mr. Bennet's stirrings gave Darcy the excuse he needed to quit the house, and so, after breaking his fast with some blue ribbon biscuits*, home made gravy and cranberry sauce, Darcy went back to Netherfield and slept in for once. His ruminations had finally rendered much needed rest.

Darcy later made certain that he had a bottle of Cruz sent to the Master of the Bennet household with his compliments. Other than that Darcy had little occasion for further contact with the man for weeks. Which was just as well, as he was sure that his face would betray to the man that Darcy had nearly defiled Bennet's daughter in his very own house.

Lizzy, who had no evidence whether last night's experience was a dream or real, didn't venture to question her father about Darcy's presence for fear of his questioning her. Instead, she determined to await any more evidence from the man himself. Sleeping together in her own bed seemed even more intimate than their two other interludes. She wondered if the faeries had taken her favorite concert shirt but assumed her mother had found it yet again and thrown it in the trash for the umpteenth time.

*New Mexico/ Southwest Authors: Edward Abbey, Denise Chavez, Rudolfo Anaya, more recently Aaron Albert Carr.

*Blue Ribbon – the highest, well, second highest honor. All kinds of hand made items and livestock are judged on their quality, class by class, age group by age group. The very highest is the purple ribbon, or Grand Prize- best of all the classes.

* * *

hope to hear from you- if my reviews get doubled I will double the posts this weekend!

thanks for reading, regardless.


	11. Chapter 11

The end of this installment sees the introduction of another one-off character.

Brigitte is an eccentric antiques dealer. You will see.

This and the next installment are inspired by Anne of the Island (I think- I can't recall which one- will somebody relieve my inquiring mind on this one? Where was the cottage with Gog and Magog? Anyway. On with the story after a couple of important notes:

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

* * *

 _Before the strategies Begin_

In the ensuing days, consumed with the multitude of tasks, Lizzy forced thoughts of Darcy to the farthest crevices of her awareness. It didn't signify when she inadvertently talked of things referring to him during stitch and bitch sessions at the Costume Shop. Her friends wisely kept silent, seeking to avoid as much tension as possible during the production push.

By this point, Lizzy practically moved in to Maya's to be closer to school and get away from Francesca who was in her usual autumn hysteria about fairs, showing livestock, recordbooks*, and the like. Lizzy found at least some time to be of support in 4-H endeavors earlier in the semester, but was grateful to have a reason to completely escape from her family if only in part. Her mother still called at inconvenient times to keep her updated.

Lizzy, who had hoped, rather than assumed, Darcy might continue to show some affection, had mixed feelings about his singular behavior since that night. His forays into her world of costumes were done with little flirtation but many artistic demands. She had since given up complaining to Maeve, partially due to feeling her Mentor would take his side, and, because she was simply fatigued. Lizzy worked through every last aesthetic and sartorial conundrum as it was handed to her, and Maeve- along with the director, were very satisfied with the resulting costumes.

Other production members also expressed their satisfaction, especially the actors, with how the costume fit their character and situation. In a production with a multitude of scenes and extras, work seemed to never end. One week was all about cravats and waistcoats, the next about slippers and boots, while the quest for the right jewels for this period and style seemed eternal. Certainly accommodations were made for more casual scenes but the balls demanded the most elegance. Extensive resources were needed to obtain just the right look for our main characters of the play.

A similar dilemma was carried out in the props department. While many items were made, taken from stock or rigged together, some needed that patina of use. Both departments were fortunate that Maeve was a woman with vast resources as she had prepared months ago in anticipation of this need. The propsmistress was far too occupied with a now problematic ball scene. She didn't have time for a shopping trip and Bingley, who had his work well in hand, offered to take it for her. She readily agreed.

Such an escape proved to only add fuel to Lizzy's subconscious obsession. She grew ever more irritable around a certain man who was now paying her little attention. How he could first seduce her, then act arrogant, while attempting to seduce her again, then cuddle with her, and then become a theatrical dictator? It was all too infuriating. Because now he seemed to ignore her. Except for the times he was taking over the production. AGAIN.

At least she would get a little reprieve in the task before her tomorrow. Lizzy did love a good road trip and it promised to be relaxing with Bingley along. At least he wouldn't be telling her what choker to get. Bingley was utterly obsessed with Regency props, of which there would be plenty. Lizzy was salivating at the thought of an immense cache of antiques.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

Her reverie was interrupted by a certain parent.

"Lizzy! My nerves, what shall I do? I'm out of chile! Run to the deep freeze to see if there's some out there. Oh! I knew we should have gotten more gunny sacks. If only you'd been here to help bag the chile this year….."Francesca was in typical form, her heels tap-tap-tap-tappinng around as she puttered around the kitchen.

As she retrieved not one but two giant Ziploc bags from half a freezer full of the stuff, Lizzy knew she'd made a mistake: Why did she elect to stay here tonight, instead of staying at Maya's? "Mom! I don't have time for your tirades. I have to prepare for the trip tomorrow."

"Why exactly do you have to go to Ruidoso for clothes? It just doesn't make sense. And it's dangerous this time of year with the avalanches." Her mother said as she busied herself chopping chiles and other vegetables.

"Mom, they've hardly had any, like, ever, and especially not with the low moisture fall now that the drought is on. And it's not Ruidoso, it's near Cloudcroft! Please! I need to finish eating so I can make sure I have everything I need."* Lizzy fell in rhythm with her mother and sauteed meat.

"We've hardly had any sense in this house since your sister went to shack up with that Bingley fellow, and you're living with that…. Lesbian." Francesca's chopping took on a passive aggressive tone.

"MOM!" Lizzy sighed loudly and had started to chastise her mother. She didn't bother correcting her about Maya's orientation. Maya would have laughed, and possibly played it up, acting like Lizzy was her own girlfriend, if Maya were here.

This time, Lizzy's father interrupted her thoughts, "Even Mary's been nearly insufferable with Collins, her boyfriend. He follows her around like a lap dog and they're far too affectionate. He hasn't gotten the hint."

"You mean like Lydon polishing his shotgun?" Lizzy asked.

"He actually made veiled threats and Collins was clueless," Edward chuckled.

Lizzy shook her head. "Unbelievable. I wish I would have seen it."

"Well, you've been busy, Lizzy dear. Don't bother with me, I'll just sit in my library and enjoy the latest McMurtry."* He took the iced tea he'd fixed himself and ambled to his favorite spot.

A green enchilada casserole, pinto beans, and salad was assembled and the family gathered for dinner. Conversation was, on the whole, innocuous, the family who were present caught Lizzy up on goings on. Jane was absent with their new boyfriends. Mary and Collins were called in from tending the garden outside to clean up at the last minute. Kitty and Lydon were at home, as their mother expected them to put in some hours that night with recordbooks.

Wickham, Lydon told them, was at the Younge ranch. Lizzy didn't comment at Lydon's obvious peevishness about the matter. She knew Lydon enjoyed the man's food and he was a great admirer of Wickham. Lizzy resolved to say something to her father about their choice of role models for her brother, later.

Collins, Lizzy was surprised to learn, had no such compunction and took it upon himself to voice similar concerns." I am honored to have learned from a certain," (he dropped his voice) "business associate" (he looked around furtively and continued), "that Wickham was let go due to um, canoodling with certain, um parties who are undisclosed but suffice it to say were I able to tell you more you would find it quite shocking to know why I cannot speak of it. Even though I have been sworn to secrecy as a dear friend of your family, I couldn't keep my silence. I felt it incumbent upon me to voice my concerns as I am honored to be an advisor to this family in farming matters, and that is to say, in family manners" (his eyes shifted to Mary who blushed).

Lydon rolled his eyes, "Geez! Give the guy a break, why don't you! It wasn't his fault she hit on him! He's not even… TRUST me. He didn't like that woman."

Francesca was quick to respond, "Well, he's only been good to this family. You know what they say in most of those cases. It was probably the woman's fault anyway. I'm inclined to believe the Mata Hari seduced him or made it look that way. Dear Wickham, what he's suffered!"

"My boyfriend wouldn't exaggerate or lie! Just because he can't tell you the particulars doesn't mean it's not true!" Mary defended.

"That's right! I have the Rosings Institution to uphold!"

Edwards eyes followed the animated debate. Lizzy couldn't tell if he was irritated or amused. Or, knowing Dad, possibly both. "Well, well, no one questions the uprightness of your Institution. Come, Lydon, you shouldn't get so upset. A young man enjoys learning that his hero has clay feet after all. It's not such a big deal."

Before her father could continue in his dismissal, Kitty interrupted their dinner discussion, "Mama, Lydon took my newest Stetson, the one I wear my tiara with."

"It looks better on me anyway, sis." Lydon said, in between shoveling food into his mouth.

"You'll stretch it out and turn the sides up so you can look like a dork. Give it back!" Kitty threw down her cutlery, the plate clattering. She refused to leave the table, instead clutching her hands at the sides of her chair, her face growing redder by the second.

"Mama tell her it looks better on your baby boy." Lydon stopped eating for a second to grin winningly at his mother.

Kitty had shoved her chair back, tears in her eyes, when her mother jumped up and put her arm around her daughter. "Oh, hang the hat, Lydon, who cares! Kitty is princess after all, she's more important than you. You should have thought about these things when you neglected to enter the fair rodeo this year. If you aren't going to do the work, the priority is on your sister and she gets the new things. "

"HA HA HA!" Kitty's tears disappeared and she flounced down in her seat. Not so much to finish her meal as to continue to gloatingly smile at her brother.

"CHILDREN!" It was the first time Lizzy had heard her father actually roar at her siblings and she stared in disbelief. He turned to her: "I told you there wasn't a bit of sense here now that you and your sister are gone."

"Yeah, he's been a bear lately". Lydon had resumed eating in earnest while talking with his mouth full. He was too hungry to skulk at the moment.|

This would only serve to build up the emotion to a more dramatic climax in the near future, whereby he would decry his mistreatment. Not that Lydon was a schemer, he was completely unaware about what a drama queen he really was. Lizzy looked hard at her brother, knowingly.

She then noticed her father's face was flushed and he continued the uncharacteristic behavior of chastising one of his progeny. "Well, son, if you'd do your chores and buckle down to get better grades…"

"Blah blah blah it's the same every day, now. You never cared before." Lydon had finished his dinner and shot up, leaving the table. Lizzy was waiting for the explosion and was relieved when he left the house entirely, likely newly motivated to spend some time with his recently neglected equine friends.

Meanwhile, Francesca held her head at the family dischord. "My Nerves! Oh I wish Wickham were here. He's such a good fellow and everyone gets along so much better with him around."

Edward clicked his tongue. "Yes, yes, he smirks and simpers and makes love to us all."

"DAD! That's gross!" Kitty looked at her father in disbelief. Collins's eyes bulged and Mary gasped. The couple had finished dinner already. Looking at each other, they silently left the table and removed to the greenhouse.

"If you read a little Kitty, you'd understand the primary definition of that phrase is not what you think…" Edward resumed eating at a leisurely pace.

Lizzy finished dinner, rinsed off her plate and went to her room to review to do lists and get some homework done.

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A couple of hours later, she beckoned 'come in' to a knock on her door. Mary entered and leaned against the door, looking uncomfortable, which Lizzy commented on. "I asked Collins if I could tell you something under confidence and he said I could."

"Ok?" Lizzy furrowed her brow.

"Before I tell you anything else I have to explain. You and Jane haven't been around much. Even though Collins and I spend a lot of time –ahem- in the garden, we see things. Dad and Lydon are not getting along so well. Lydon is slipping in school and ditches 4-H meetings. Dad keeps harping on him to get his grades up and they argue more. Mom looks the other way because usually Wickham shows up to 'sponsor' and she says its fine for him to mentor Lydon one on one. I don't think that's what is going on. Neither does Collins. Here's why:" She took a breath and continued

"He wanted you to know that Wickham could have been convicted of trafficking drugs at Rosings, not to mention running certain um, spa and entertainment operations, if you know what I mean. That is why he got fired. But that wasn't all. It came to light after a man tried to sue Rosings after he caught Hepatitis there. Collins says Catalina was apoplectic and the Foundation could have lost a lot of money and its credibility.

After that Catalina worked hard to resolve the situation with victims who came forward. She put very strict rules in place and worked hard to earn a stellar reputation as a sort of wellness spa. She has the place credentialed now and there is a strict policy forbidding any relationships between staff and clients. In fact, he had to get permission from Catalina to date me, since the Bennet family could be considered a client. We corresponded and she gave him her blessing, saying that since this wasn't happening at the Wellness Foundation, she would allow it." Lizzy could tell that Mary was quite proud for Catalina's approval.

"Why did you think I needed to know this information"?

"I have eyes, you know. I can tell how uncomfortable you are around Wickham and I saw your dance with Darcy." She laughed mirthlessly, "how could I not, Lydon has to ruin things for us. But I saw it, anyway and you and Darcy were about to combust on the dancefloor. There is something between you two. I just think you need to be careful of what Wickham says, is all. Oh, and, maybe you could help deal with Lydon when the dust settles."

"You know what Mary? I agree. Thank you. I won't say a word about Collins's confidence. And I will watch out for Wickham. Lydon may not be saveable, but when the dust settles, we can try, ok"? Mary nodded and the sisters embraced. Mary made her excuses to leave, apologizing for not staying longer. Lizzy reassured her that she had her own work yet to do. They made future plans to go over each other's projects during a break. After Mary left Lizzy wondered at their bond amidst the ongoing currents pulling the siblings on disparate courses.

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As the rest of the theatre was closing up for the night, a lone figure stalked towards the last worker in the building.

"Fuck! You scared me Bingley," yelped Darcy as Bingley put his hand on Darcy's shoulder.

"Dude, you are so preoccupied with your work. And can you play something else besides The Cult? I mean, they have a lot of songs, but I am sick of goth butt rock." Bingley walked to the phone in its speaker dock and picked it up to rummage through the musical selections.

Darcy resumed his painting and started: "Inter-"

"NO INTERPOL either." Charles interrupted

Darcy turned to his friend: "You're a bit testy. You don't look so good."

"Yeah, I feel like shit. I think I'm getting a cold. I wish I hadn't told _ take her place for the trip to Cloudcroft." His sneeze seemed to emphasize his point. "I just want to go home and have Jane play nursie."

"I guess there are advantages to being crossed in love," Darcy mused.

"Yeah, look at you, asshole. You're such a teacher's pet, you're almost done." Charles gestured to the exquisitely painted backdrop. "What WILL you do with all your spare time?"

"Well, speaking of teacher's pets, I found a sub position in the Art Department, you know, to keep me busy around here so I can be available." Darcy's brow wrinkled, concentrating.

"Available for a certain lady?" Charles smirked.

Darcy stopped painting and looked at his friend. "I am SO pathetic."

"You are dude. Totally." Bingley sneezed again.

Darcy continued observing his friends pallor, offering "I'd be happy to help you out and go to Cloudcroft to get those props so you don't have to."

Bingley's voice was getting more nasally by the second. "That would take a load off. I know I can trust you. You're so damn fastidious you probably made a list of the props I need, too."

Darcy walked over to his tablet, "Actually I have an app…"

"Bastard." Charles followed Darcy, pulling out his own phone to review the list with his friend.

"Better stop cursing at me if you want me to go for you tomorrow. Darcy said, as they sat down to review the lists.

Bingley wasn't yet done teasing his friend. "Yeah, You are SO reluctant to help, what with your delectable Miss Bennet going."

"That is an inducement, I admit." Darcy had a faraway look in his eyes.

"Just do her a favor and DON'T play the Cult the whole way up." Bingley suggested.

"She likes it." Darcy's tone was defensive.

"Now I'm beginning to understand…" Charles said, as they started the actual work of going over the prop lists. By the time they finished, Charles was much worse off. He had planned to come in early the next day to coordinate with Darcy and the Lighting Designer before leaving with Lizzy. Darcy offered to do it in his stead several times, but Charles assured his friend he'd meet Darcy and the Lighting designer there at first light to do a dry run before Darcy went to the mountains. Reluctantly Darcy agreed.

He was unsurprised, however, when his friend was not up the next morning. Jane had left Bingley's bedroom briefly to inform Darcy he was not to make the meeting. Darcy told Jane to assure Charles the dry run would be completed this morning, he and the Lighting Designer would take notes for Charles. Darcy hurried to the Theatre, hoping to finish on time.

He was looking very forward to this drive. He'd spent far too long focusing on the production and allowing himself to fear the worst- in the time that he'd missed Wickham may have endeared himself to her, become more to her than Lizzy said said. He knew he'd taken out his fears on her but also was certain she'd forgive him, recalling with relish their two encounters that proved her easy manner.

Darcy hoped to make Lizzy his, once and for all. He had already taken care of one important task- finding a reason to stay which would at least sustain the needed ongoing visibility to his career. He always enjoyed being a guest instructor. He could have certainly used a hiatus but was too used to work and too proud to give in to the appearance that he was hanging around for her. He had already found some spacious houses to buy or rent near the school and was eager to share the news with her. This ride was, of course, foremost about acquiring their last props and costume pieces, but otherwise, he planned to show Lizzy that he was all about her needs.

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*recordbooks- at the end of the year people in 4-H make a scrapbook of each project's accomplishments along with things like the running of their 'business' if they are, for example, raising livestock for the project- IE expenses and revenue. Or for sewing, for example, pictures of clothes made, etc.

*Ruidoso and Cloudcroft are small quaint mountain resort towns in the pines. The roads up are windy and dangerous in places and have been to have avalanches in the past.

*Larry Mc Murtry. Movies made from his work includes The Last Picture Show, Lonesome Dove and he co wrote Brokeback Mountain.

* * *

Task 2

In the short space between Lizzy's early morning entrance to the theatre and the present, Darcy had already turned the entire trip upside down. She had arrived on time, only to find Darcy, not the propsmistress or Bingley. And, he insisted that he could not miss a morning meeting which inevitably went an hour over schedule. Or, more accurately, the insufferable man went an hour over schedule with the lighting designer while everyone else had vacated the meeting. He needed to check the progress of his work in conjunction with set and lights in a sort of dry run. Why he needed to do it this morning in particular, Lizzy wasn't sure, but she suspected it was simply to annoy her and show who was boss. Having originally planned to leave much earlier in the day, Lizzy took the news none too well.

In her rush to the Theatre, Lizzy had foregone her morning coffee and was eager to remedy this situation. Since she had to wait on his highness, she might as well go to Desert Spirit. She was surprised to see Lydon and Wickham there. Lydon, generally not a morning person was animatedly bragging about his recent rodeo exploits to some adoring FFA ingenues while Wickham looked on proudly. Something about the situation was off, something besides Lydon's alertness at such an early hour, but Lizzy couldn't put her finger on it. When her brother saw her, he greeted Lizzy with a bear hug, swinging her around, nearly hitting a patron.

"Ooops! Sorry! Here let me get you a coffee." The patron, who had been looking on interestedly, dismissed the rodeo hero.

Lydon turned to his sister, effusing about how Wickham was a hand in the ring and was the reason for his recent win in the roping category. Lizzy congratulated her brother and nodded to Wickham, explaining that she needed to get back to the Theatre as she was going to the mountains for a day to visit a store for some costumes. She rolled her eyes as she said it, which caused her brother to ask the reason for her change of heart. She explained that Darcy would be going on the trip. Lydon teased her about going on a weekend with Mr. Fancy Pants. Lizzy blushed furiously.

"So this is your excuse to jump his bones, huh?" Lydon cackled when his sister turned even redder.

"What? No! I didn't even know he was coming. It was supposed to be someone else." It was all Lizzy could do to keep from squashing the paper coffee cup.

Wickham raised his eyebrows. "He probably planned it this way. I'd watch it if I were you. I've spent weekends with him in the forest myself." His index finger gestured a circle at his temple in the universal sign of madness. "You think he's intense now, just wait when you're a captive audience. He wants everything his way. And I do mean everything. Oh, and watch out for the running around the forest in nothing but underwear and a crazy costume, shooting his bow and arrow aimlessly."

Lizzy's eyes widened. She tersely said goodbyes and left. She was officially done with the whole idea of Darcy going on this trip and it hadn't even begun. Perhaps Wickham was a shady character but he certainly had Darcy pegged about the control issue. What concerned her was being cornered by the man in a cabin in the woods.

But they were on a schedule, accountable to the theatre to procure their pieces. There was accountability. Surely he wouldn't lose his control on her and risk his reputation? What was she thinking? No one cared. The man walked on water as far as the known theatre world was concerned. She gripped the steering wheel, breathing, willing herself to calm down. Lizzy sat in the car, finished her coffee and walked inside, hoping that he was through.

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He was through. However, but to her vast exasperation, _that man_ insisted on taking his Mercedes arguing that it was bigger than her car and could hold more. Of course, that meant that he also would drive, another plan gone awry. She hated being a passenger on the up and downhill winding drive to Cloudcroft- it made her nauseated. And of course, when Lizzy protested citing this reason, Darcy had another solution. He insisted she take a Dramamine that he conveniently kept in the car for his brother, who also got carsick. Lizzy decided she'd rather take it than throw up on his original upholstery.

Now, here she was, mood was blacker than the clouds in the far distance- a dark blot on her horizon as she scanned the panoramic view while coasting in the passenger seat of Darcy's Mercedes. As angry thoughts swirled heavily in her head, the sounds of a relaxing classical playlist from the Georgian Era which Darcy had chosen (another one of his control issues- he insisted it would relax her. Lizzy bored easily of classical music but kept her mouth shut).

She didn't know exactly when she fell asleep, but all Lizzy could recall was the view and then darkness, dream images of Darcy, wearing nothing but a loincloth, moving easily though a pagan countryside and then taking occasional flight. She was a silent observer along for the ride, observing as he pulled arrow after arrow from his quiver and took aim at figures which Lizzy eventually realized to her horror were people.

She tried to look away but couldn't only to find them moaning not in pain but in the agonies of love. As his arrow would hit the mark, people would fall into wrestling masses of lust. She looked to the man and saw he had full on angel wings- or were the wings from some other entity? They were dark and immense and… strangely erotic, not scary at all.

Lizzy did not realize the smile that crept over her face as she dreamed. She missed the sidelong glances frequently stolen by the driver. They wound around moving steeply up the mountainside, surrounded by golden trees and dense groundcover.

She only opened her eyes when she felt the car turn onto a washboard road waking her with its clatters and bumps. The car emerged briefly to the picturesque scene of a Victorian cottage tucked away amidst the magical foliage, reminding Lizzy of something out of Anne of the Island*. She was already under its spell and the two parked and sat in awe.

"I've been here before" Darcy softly stated- almost more of a question in tone. His face bore the inscrutability of dim memories Darcy struggled to bring to the surface. She looked at him questioningly but the reverie was interrupted by the front door bursting open and the sound of a gunshot which seemed to whiz just inches in front of their car.

"And stay out! If you ever come back, you know what you're in for! Now, get out of here!" Lizzy and Darcy sat gaping in shock over a tiny, shotgun-wielding crone who chased a doughy balding man in a suit off her front steps. He scurried to a very new looking oversized red Ford truck. He left in a panicked flash of flying mud and gravel, his tires not deigning to squeal for fear of further instigating the miniature harridan.

Lizzy could hardly take in the juxtaposition of the sight and situation before her. As she sat in a daze, Darcy hurriedly got out his wallet and rummaged through, pulling out what looked to be an old photograph and muttered "I've got this."

Lizzy harrumphed in frustration that again Darcy had to be the one in control, not for once considering that the crone was still wielding a shotgun that hadn't been discharged after it was last cocked. She sat watching, her thoughts vacillating between disbelief and annoyance as Darcy delicately approached the tiny defensive woman, speaking to her and showing her something, then the woman laughed in joy and awkwardly uncocked the shotgun and set it down before she grasped Darcy in a bear hug.

The two went inside briefly and Lizzy didn't know what was more dumbfounding- that he knew this woman or that they forgot her in the car. She was about to open her car door in huff of indignation when she noticed Darcy pop his head out, beckoning, smilingly to her- come on! Lizzy put on her best 'going to visit Grandma' expression and bounded to the door, curiosity building by the second.

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An aesthetically organized clutter of objects and furnishings covered every inch of the tiny cottage parlor.

It was a bestiary, herbary, reliquary- and more- of unbelievable proportions. On the walls and every available space, seeming to observe her, were small taxidermied birds and beasts, antlers and horns of creatures of exotic origin, collections of insects neatly pinned under glass, a large shadowbox of butterflies and pressed flowers.

On one wall, a dead gnarled tree seemed to grow out of the wall and was hung with varied ornamentation and dried herbs. And then there were the statuary and metal pieces- green men, gargoyles, sacred statues, as well as oil lamps and candelabras all covered in various layers of lichen and patina.

Standing guard at an Arts and Crafts style chimney, were two ornate and enormous Foo Dogs. As if that weren't enough, the floor was covered in rugs – magic carpets really- from far flung places.

The furniture too, seemed ancient and exotic- a sumptuous chaise lounge and cushions out of an opium den, an ornate yet sturdy Victorian sofa and finally a number of side tables, captain and wingback chairs heralding from diverse eras. *

Lizzy stared, slack-jawed. "This must be a dream."

* * *

Well, what do you think? This part was one of my favorites to write.

If you want any examples of pictures, please let me know and I will post links. That will require some serious reviewing! since so many reviewed last time, if you do want pictures, please let me know- at least 4 more reviews indicating you want pictures, especially if it is something specific you are wondering about. I might just be persuaded to dust off my Pinterest with enough inducement.

Never fear, I will post a second installment tonight or tomorrow. Stay tuned!

Thank you everyone for the reviews. They are so verymuch appreciated.


	12. Chapter 12

This installment is inspired by Anne of the Island (I think- I can't recall which one-

\- seriously-Will somebody relieve my inquiring mind on this one? Where was the cottage with Gog and Magog? - please comment if you know.

Anyway. On with the story after a couple of important notes:

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

* * *

 _The Sticks_

"No," he chuckled, his eyes warm,"this is my very real, very dear family friend, Brigitte. When I saw this place, I realized it was the same place as this."

Darcy handed Lizzy a faded color photograph of the front of the house. Standing before it, smiling, were 2 older ladies, a middle aged woman, and a woman who looked to be in her 20's. She was stunning in a long white dress, and long, dark Botticelli curls. She was holding a young boy with dark curly hair and dark eyes, like hers. The boy's solemn expression was a giveaway and Brigitte had changed little. She seemed as ageless as the mountainside which she occupied.

The woman in white haunted Lizzy. She shook the thought from her mind "This is you? Here? Are these- your mother and…?"

"My grandmother, my great grandmother and our dear friend Brigitte- as you see. I'd always wondered where this was taken, but they've all passed and Catalina never told me…." Darcy smiled, half to Lizzy and half to the woman sitting next to him.

"Nonsense! We both come from families of hermits who don't take to the outside world at times- I don't exactly seek company myself. Catalina wouldn't have told you: she didn't make that trip. Your mother kept wishing her there, as she had such a fine time, as did you, as I recall. You wanted to take my foo dogs home with you. Then Aphrodite had Jorge and, well, I expect time just got away from us. Sad you all never made it back. Your Mother was too soon to pass after your Great Grandmother Martinez De Gonzalez..

Your mother Aphrodite, so dark and graceful, although that last time she sounded like a damn cat, wearing those hippie bells on her ankles and wrists. She'd shake them and you'd giggle endlessly…But I'm sorry- I am just reminiscing on what must still be tender memories for you, son." Brigitte reached over and patted Darcy with her wizened hand.

"Actually, it's nice to hear someone talk about it," Darcy softly responded as his hand brushed away tears. At the same time, droplets of rain started plunking the roof above their heads and the clouds overhead burst in an ever escalating downpour.

"Look! It's started to rain! Why don't I get us some tea. Lizzy, you enjoy yourself as a guest. Would you light a fire, young man? I already chopped the wood, but it would be nice to have a man in the house to help out with such a duty for once. It's been too many years…" her voice faded as she bustled into the kitchen.

Lizzy heard the boiling, clinking and clattering associated with the rituals of tea. Darcy had begun to build a fire which took several minutes to start in such damp conditions. Meanwhile, she was occupied with senses and thoughts bombarding her – the conflict of Darcy's many personas, his earlier control dissipating into kindliness and sentimentality, the beauty around her that Lizzy struggled to absorb.

Lizzy took out her sketch pad and started making a few meager attempts to capture some essence of the tableaux before her. As Lizzy was finishing a sketch of the fireplace wall, Brigitte came in with a tray of tea and associated tea things. It looked like a feast straight from an English mystery and smelled divine. Darcy emerged from the kitchen assisting her with bringing even more tea things to the coffee table before them. Lizzy noticed the spread was complete with silverware specific to the occasion as well as the complimenting delicate handmade linens. "Brigitte, I am speechless. Maeve didn't tell me…."

"Well, Maeve wouldn't, dear, would she? She is a woman of many secrets- as am I." The lady's eyes twinkled with merriment of secrets shared with another dear friend. Lizzy couldn't help but laugh.

"Now let me see , what have we here?" Brigitte asked as she hunched over Lizzy's sketchpad. "You did a lovely job of capturing Gog and Magog.: When Lizzy looked at her questioningly, Bridget explained- "my Foo Dogs*- you know- guarding the temple as it were."

When Lizzy's eyes reflected recognition, Brigitte went on, "Did you bring a camera? You are welcome to take photographs as long as you don't share them. I wouldn't want the legends of Aerie Antiques becoming well publicized. I have enough nosy parkers trying to poach my land, my things…."

"Of course not! I would never do such a thing, Brigitte." Lizzy said.

"I can well vouch for her honor, Brigitte. Lizzy has a history that goes back as well, I imagine she understands the concerns of family heirlooms and properties as handed down by the Gardiner family." Darcy explained.

"Of course." Lizzy confirmed this statement with intent. It then occurred to her who said it and so she looked at Darcy with confusion. She quickly schooled her expression. "Brigitte it would not even compare but I live on a farm north of Dona Maria that was started by my Great Great Grandfather Gardiner."

"You don't say! Are you related to the crazy woman, Phil?"

"You know her?" Lizzy gasped. Her day could not be any more unbelievable than it already was.

"Well, like I say about secrets," Brigitte chuckled. "She and I have taken our share of antiquing expeditions together, she comes up sometimes and gets fruit, then she'll send me a pie in the mail. Goodness, I can remember her when she was just starting out her business and we met at an estate sale on an old farmstead in _. "

"I hope that I can have such long lasting friendships." Lizzy mused.

Brigitte beamed. "Honey, you seem to have inherited the Gardiner charm so I'd imagine you don't hurt for friends- or boyfriends?" Brigitte leveled a gaze at Darcy.

He reddened and conveniently changed the subject to the repast before them, intently lifting the tops of the two teapots to breathe in their fragrances. "Brigitte, the tea's steeped long enough: what would you like- Darjeeling or Herbal Ambrosia? You have an even bigger tea collection than when I was little. I thought you were a witch with all those jars that looked like they had magical potions of leaves, twigs and flowers!"

"Well, who's to say I'm not!?" Brigitte's musical laughter infected her two guests. With that, Lizzy, Darcy and Brigitte heartily supplemented their rich conversation with equally delectable food and drink. The three experienced the plentiful delights that only a rainy afternoon of tea, cakes and captivating tablemates can afford. Darcy's memories continued to flow, and Lizzy experienced, through his descriptions, the enchanting sensations from that brief shining vacation when he was 10.

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Conversation meandered into other woodland days. Darcy spoke of childhood escapades at the Camp his family ran. On one occasion, the Wickham, Richard and Darcy had taken bets on who would lose an unofficial archery contest. The loser would have to go to the dance that night in an outfit picked by the others. Darcy, who normally outperformed everyone in archery, happened to lose in what he later learned was a rigged game, as his 'friends' had messed with his arrows.

He had been made to wear a loincloth and angel outfit, carrying said quiver and bow. What topped it off was that the boys demanded he go around to people and offer to poke them with his love arrow. His mother, who saw her teenage son marching into the made-over cafeteria, quickly put an end to the prank and ground him to his room. The mortified Darcy was grateful while his friends looked on, laughing hysterically. By the time Darcy finished the story, Brigitte's eyes were streaming in laughter while Lizzy's eyes were round as saucers.

That image of Darcy was now firmly implanted in her conscious and would not let go. He looked at her curiously and she blushed.

It gave her a deep satisfaction of having almost primordial sensations and memories fulfilled that weren't her own. That she could feel such connection to anyone, let alone him, mystified her. How could she have been so exasperated at him this morning and be utterly taken with him mere hours later? Before that he was indifferent when he wasn't bossy.

This afternoon was a collection of moments which were the making of life, more important that their original reason for coming. Perhaps the agenda for obtaining costume and prop bits were the vehicle for this experience, for her experience with Darcy. How could it be when he'd not even planned to come up here?

She wondered if Brigitte truly was an old witch and if she had indeed put some kind of changing potion into Darcy's drink…. Or perhaps some kind of potion into her own: How else could she experience such a material change in her attitude towards him, that she could think this was destined? Wickham's warnings lapped at her subconscious.

Lizzy tried to avoid Brigitte when she would catch the woman looking back and forth between herself and Darcy. If the crone caught Lizzy's eye, she'd simply chuckle and shake her head. Although Lizzy was discomfited at being an object of the woman's matchmaking, she otherwise thoroughly enjoyed being here. Brigitte, who bore the inscrutability of a merry sphinx, conveyed her pleasure in sharing her bounty with two rare people who could actually appreciate the experiences before them.

She was inspired by the octogenarian who was clearly at peace with her eccentricities. Time seemed to pass very slowly as they ate, drank and talked. The crone told stories of her far flung travels which interconnected with the furnishings surrounding them. When the last drop of tea was drunk and the crumbs cleared away from the table, Brigitte noted that it had only been an hour and a half since sitting down.

Since the guests were filled with food and drink, it was time to show them the collections which they'd come to see. Thus it was with great pleasure that Brigitte introduced her newest charge to The Wardrobe. Brigitte had been a CS Lewis fan and was inspired to turn a bi-level room into The Wardrobe. Because the cottage was nestled in the mountain, rooms had to be literally carved out of it in some places. The area had been part of a gentle incline, it was leveled and kept at a higher level, about 1 ½ feet from the ground floor. As such Brigitte was able to find an old armoire, remove the back, replace it with curtains, and situate this armoire in front if the room's entrance so that the Wardrobe appeared to magically expand.

With a flourish, Brigitte opened the doors and told _Lizzy, go on then, in you go!_ Lizzy looked at her in confusion, giggled and stepped in, gasping as her hand pushed through fabric to an empty back- a portal to a fantastic world on the other side- literally a room full of antique and vintage clothes, costumes, shoes, accessories and jewelry. Lizzy made small exclamations as she recognized pieces that she only knew of from books or costume reproductions. These were the real thing. Then, laid out, she saw the coup de grace.

In front of her was an elaborate yet elegant necklace of pearls, along with a pearl encrusted diadem and veil, pearl bracelets, earbobs, and a pearl encrusted handbag. Other pearl items were laid alongside these- Combs and hair pins, another pair of earbobs, a huge broach, pearl edged gloves and matching sash- clearly not part of the set but beautiful representations enough that each bride could be well embellished. " Is this Regency?"

Brigitte explained, "Well, it's cheating- the original pearls on the necklace were of a similar design but they had to be restrung long before I got them, and were reconfigured a bit. The rest are from the Edwardian when the Neoclassical look was again all the rage- a la Poiret or Erte.* I suppose on stage only the severest critic would care really- don't you think?"

Lizzy readily agreed, and the enthusiastic Brigitte continued to reveal tray after velvet lined tray of jewelry that would be perfectly at home in any Regency salon or ballroom. Upon discussing rental terms that Maeve had come to with their host, Lizzy couldn't contain her astonishment at Brigitte's generosity. The woman expressed her joy at the items being put to good use and went on to express a few choice words about underhanded dealers and developers. Considering the reception Brigitte gave to those unsavory characters, Darcy to let the matter drop.

A worried Lizzy had other ideas. "Really, Brigitte- who is going to protect you- all this treasure with just you- aren't you afraid that you could get robbed, or worse?"

"Don't worry too much- I do have a son that watches out for me. He lives up the hill a ways- he retired and moved back to live near his old mother.

"And, I do have other standbys." Brigitte moved aside some clothing to show wires and a box with a flashing light.

"This place is wired up like a Christmas tree with this alarm system. My grandson did it for me a few years ago. Works so well that foraging raccoons set it off and I have to tell the alarm company not to come out at least once a week. The gun is just for show- you know- scare off all the riffraff. Of course the most effective deterrent is the woman in white who seems to haunt the area. People say they hear strange scurrying noises or bells when she walks the roads or woods."

Both Lizzy and Darcy looked at each other. The idea of the woman raised the hair on the back of Lizzy's neck, but she soon became distracted by more trunks, cases, and miscellaneous holders of treasure. Lizzy made stacks of all the items she would take back with her and then it was Darcy's turn.

Brigitte showed him to an unusually nondescript, shabby chic looking utility room adjacent to the kitchen. There, Brigitte revealed shelves laid out in countless artifacts that would make excellent prop pieces- writing sets, grooming items, utensils that Lizzy guessed belonged in the kitchen… and many more unrecognizable items. When every relevant item had been appraised and plundered, or alternately set aside, the three started amassing every container at the doorway next to Brigitte's carport addition. Darcy backed up the Mercedes and began carrying trunks, cases, and all manner of boxes to his boot.

He meticulously arranged the lot, then carefully covered it in several moving blankets and then shut the trunk, then repeated the process in the back seat, packing and covering all until there was just enough space for him to see through the rear window. Lizzy realized she would not have been able to accommodate so many items and conceded- without grudge, no less, that Darcy's offer to take his car was much appreciated. Darcy's expression bore an aloof graciousness about her gratitude. She wondered again at his turns of mood.

With no little regret, Lizzy and Darcy said their goodbyes to Brigitte. Both of them hugged her fiercely in their turn, both swearing to visit again when the items needed to be returned, and hopefully, on many other occasions. As Darcy embraced the tiny woman, she whispered- _don't let her go_. Darcy just nodded, not knowing what to say.

Just before Darcy started the car, Brigitte called, "wait! Lizzy, I almost forgot- I wanted you to have this!"And Brigitte brought out a sweet black vintage sweater encrusted with beads in a floral pattern. It was in pristine condition and even lined. Lizzy heaped thanks upon Brigitte before reluctantly leaving.

For the next few minutes, Lizzy was lost in thought about was, for one, there was the album Lizzy had begun to peruse- one with Brigitte in every far flung site imaginable- Brigitte on a camel at the Pyramids in Egypt, Brigitte clad in white with a group of people who appeared Carribbean before a jewel toned sea, Brigitte in a sari in a temple, Brigitte amidst the monkeys at Angkor Watt, Brigitte amongst merry revelers in a Henge, Brigitte again in white atop the Pyramid of the Sun at Teotihuachan with butterflies fluttering around her, Brigitte in every exotic locale imaginable. It was as if, for fun, someone had photoshopped her in the midst of dozens of foreign spiritual centers- kind of like a roaming gnome. But, Elizabeth knew these were the real article. But the question of the album would have to keep for another visit, which could not come soon enough as far as she was concerned.

The mysterious woman was easy to ponder. Of course, she provided a ready distraction from the mystery looming next to her. She didn't know whether she wanted to try to sketch his character, just now. She'd rather enjoy their renewed solitude and hope for more moments like this afternoon where her sense of him was ignited into something that transcended his silly moods or her worries over the future.

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*this cottage is inspired by my fanciful ideas of a small out of the way cottage Anne Shirley discovered. My memory is poor- can't remember if it was Patty's Place in Anne of the Island or somewhere else. No image I could find could do my imagination justice.

*Foo dogs:www dot carters dot com dot /index/6008-oriental-objects-fo-dogs/

PS I know these are not the same as the dogs in Patty's Place. I used artistic license, imagining what a world traveling eccentric antique collector would find half a world away

*the mountains in this area have amazing fruits- cherries, apples etc. Carizozo is another small town on the way up the mountain. People sell cider on the side of the road.

* Erte and Poiret: they designed in the era of Downton Abbey. I preferred Erte: here's a good neoclassical example

www dot wikipaintings dot org /en/erte/athena

* * *

Stars in my eyes were shimmering lights

Only for MA eyes

Lizzy stayed quiet, allowing her companion concentrate on making his way down a darkening, wet road as rain continued to sprinkle the windshield and obscure his view. She found the harrowing drive a certain means of distraction from unrelenting thoughts of Him. Leaving today, she couldn't have imagined to share such a bond with Him, or that an eccentric old friend of Aunt Phil would be the making of those moments.

Disappointed that the afternoon would draw to an end tonight, Lizzy resolved to find some means of keeping him company tonight, no matter how they spent it. After several minutes the two spied the red of flares and police cruisers ahead, along with a miles long line of cars. When they pulled close enough, Lizzy got out and jogged the few yards to the next car.

She learned the entire roadway was blocked due to a jackknifed rig. It had swerved to miss a large red truck filled with antiques. Apparently the man in the red truck had swerved to miss a dark tressed woman in a long white dress who stood in the middle of the road, pointing at him, and the trucker swerved to miss the red truck.

The search party still hadn't found the woman. It would be hours before traffic would get moving. Shivering in her now too lightweight full length wool coat, Lizzy returned with the news, wondering aloud if it was the same red truck and same man that Brigitte had scared off. With the thought of some wandering specter, not to mention the long road block, both easily decided it preferable to stay the night at a motel in Cloudcroft than to wait for unknown hours on the dark, cold highway.

By now it had been a few hours since tea, and although both Lizzy and Darcy had eaten until stuffed, they agreed it must be the mountain air making them ravenous again. Elizabeth had grown easygoing from the good day and lightheaded from hunger. As such, when Darcy returned from the 3rd hotel with news that the only room available was at the Lodge, she had no complaint. Her calm and dreamlike attitude was disturbed a bit when, after the two consulted the Lodge's front desk, they learned the last room available was a honeymoon suite named the Love Nest.

"Damn!" She thought, inwardly. Those warnings from earlier in the day were building up in the tide of thoughts in the back of her head.

"Hmmmm." He pondered aloud. "Well, why don't we lock up the car, check in, and get some dinner. I'm famished." As an afterthought Darcy added- "would that be alright with you or did you have other plans?"

"N-no, that's fine." Lizzy stammered. It had been such a good day, and being in such close quarters might once again prove her undoing. He was so appealing in his damp shirt, after being so charming today….

"Shall we?" Lizzy was shaken out of her reverie by the object of it. The pair returned to the car, to assure that the car and the valuables inside were secure and get any other items the could rummage for overnight. Lizzy was nervous, but not due to the safety of things in the Mercedes.

When they opened the door to the suite, she wondered if it was fate that their trip was to end with certain eventualities. The room had airy Victorian Era white décor with elegant dark wood furniture. It managed to have the best of the era's needlework – rugs, handworked lace in the wall coverings, bargello chair cushions and the like- without causing the room to look fussy.

Small exceptions to this color scheme likely made the room work so well, such as paintings of picturesque woodland scenes and a blue upholstered chaise. Darcy noticed it as being out of era and recalling a David painting he couldn't remember the name of.* The most obvious deviation, however, was the coral duvet and cushions in complimentary hues which stood out from the bed linens' otherwise stark whiteness.

Hanging over the bed was a painting that Darcy instantly recognized as a *Christian Gottlieb Kratzenstein-Stub. Lizzy could see it clearly depicted Psyche and Eros. It earily recalled her earlier dream, and Darcy's teenage escapade. _By the G-ds_ , she inwardly muttered. Each awkwardly settled what minimal belongings they had in the large suite and hurried to leave its confines. Lizzy tried not to imagine what the glint in his eyes meant. Her eyes wandered down his body, seeing evidence of his desire. She wondered what it must be like for him.

He cleared his throat and she shook herself out of the reverie, flushing. "Why don't we go down to find some overnight things. _"_ Her voice shook as she said the word overnight. She quickly added "I need a toothbrush and maybe something warm." Her stomach clenched at the predatory look he gave her.

They walked down the stairs and he was behind her. She was suddenly self conscious of her appearance, considering her hand made, clingy gray dress with a strategically placed Julia Margaret Cameron* screenprint that no doubt called attention to her cleavage, and then there was the white, lace edged knit under dress and hint of leg displayed every once in awhile.

She also wore a pair of buttery black riding boots and black leggings, and wondered how it would feel with those legs wrapped around him- the erotic feel of the leather rubbing against him as they… Lizzy was thankful she made it intact to the Lodge shop. She concentrated intently on finding her overnight items including the toothbrush in question. She had also found a long, scoopneck cobalt dress which was much warmer than what she had on, so Lizzy paid for the dress, never taking it off.

Darcy had left her to shop and they had agreed to have dinner in an hour. Lizzy returned to the room and took a steaming shower and slipped on her new dress, layering it with the grey one and putting on her new beaded sweater and her long coat for warmth. As Lizzy sat at the vanity putting on makeup, Darcy entered the room and had his turn in the shower.

Embarrassed at the forced intimacy, she tried unsuccessfully to act like he wasn't there. Lizzy's face grew flush when Darcy emerged from the steamy room with merely a towel around his torso. She stole more than one look at his physique while Darcy dressed in the only partially obscured closet area. Lizzy got an even better view when she tilted the vanity mirror slightly, bringing even more of Darcy's reflection into view.

She blushed as Darcy caught her eyes in the mirror when he emerged fully dressed in his jeans, sweater and jacket. "Time for dinner?" She asked brightly. Other guests already filled much of the dining room. Even so, Lizzy and Darcy were miraculously able to find a cozy place right next to a roaring fire. They ordered and tried to make conversation while waiting for the meal. Despite having elected to order from the appetizer menu, their wait was interminable due to the rush.

To make the best of things, the two drank warm cocktails and snacked on the homemade bread from a basket on the table. With only bread and a Kahlua hot chocolate in her stomach, Lizzy felt lightheaded, warmer and decidedly less inhibited. She excused herself and went to the ladies room. Lizzy emerged without the top layers and Darcy appreciatively noticed the new dress, or rather, what it did on her body.

"I was warm, "she explained.

"So am I," he whispered.

"Don't do that. I can't resist you and I end up doing bad things."

"Bad things?" He leaned in like a sleek big cat, ready to capture his prey. She felt his breath, sending pleasant shivers down her body, ending in an ache between her thighs.

"That's why I'm mean to you, Mr. Darcy." Lizzy had turned to face him, her lips inches from his.

"That's immature. You should be disciplined. I wonder what I should do about that…" his whispers tantalizing her lips.

"Don't Stop?" She said weakly, in a question that ended in a whimper of pleasure as Darcy found the side slit in Lizzy's dress and ran his finger up her leg. Her silent breathing came more quickly with his caresses.

"I wonder if you could learn discipline while I gave you pleasure in such a public place…"

Her breath hitched and Lizzy's upper body tensed. She tried to keep the facial mask of a mere romantic interlude that was much less intimate than the explorations being conducted under the crisp white linen tablecloth, under her dress. Lizzy felt Darcy's breath tease her ear, his lips tantalize her neck. Meanwhile his fingers expertly found and caressed her core, which was damp, engorged and very sensitive, even through the fabric of her leggings.

Lizzy desperately tried to muffle her gasps, keep her eyes from screwing up. Lizzy's lids drooped with pleasure, her lips parted as she softly panted. To casual onlookers the couple appeared merely affectionate, even as Lizzy was mounting crest upon crest of bliss until she orgasmed in near silence.

Their timing was impeccable when, just as Darcy withdrew his hand from under Lizzy's skirt, the waiter approached with their food. After the waiter departed, Darcy sensuously tasted his fingers, his tongue barely visible between his lips. He then dipped is fingers in the fingerbowl, wiped his hands and started to dine.

Lizzy watched in bemused silence, only then realizing she had not yet touched her food. Both ate quietly, warmly regarding one another and taking a stolen kiss or caress every once in awhile. When Lizzy and Darcy finished the meal, he insisted on paying. Lizzy asked, "Does this mean we are officially on a date"?

"I thought that fact was already established before we ate. If you need some more convincing however…" Lizzy let his question hang in the air as he finished paying and they walked upstairs. Almost immediately upon setting foot in the relatively dim hallway at the top of the stairs, Darcy's lips were upon Lizzy's, and he had pushed her against the wall. They fumbled to the room and managed to unlock the door amidst heated groping and kissing.

"I'm quite enjoying being convinced, Mr Darcy, but I think I shall need more, ah, coaxing," Lizzy gasped.

"Take off my clothes." His tone was commanding.

Readily complying, Lizzy pulled off his jacket and sweater, her hands skimming Darcy's silky chest and muscled arms as she did so. She ran her hands down his stomach which elicited a groan from her lover. She pulled down his jeans slowly as he awkwardly kicked off his boots. When she peeled off his socks she heard more gasps of pleasure and she said "I see someone has a bit of a fetish."

"You have no idea." Darcy pushed Lizzy against the bedroom door and kneeled at her feet, one of her booted feet firmly encased between his firm thighs. He pushed her dress out of his way, licking and kissing Lizzy over her leggings from her belly, downward over her thighs, circling nearer and nearer to her clit. Lizzy moaned, her hands splayed out on the door's cool smoothness. She couldn't help but thrust toward him, Darcy's mouth bringing her agonizingly and infinitesimally ever nearer to bliss. As she did so, Darcy cried out in pleasure, Lizzy's movements stimulating his cock as it rubbed against the buttery leather of Lizzy's boot.

He pushed her toward the bed to sit. Take off your dress, he ordered. As she pulled it off, Darcy worked on taking off her boots and disrobing her lower body, his mouth covering bare skin as it was revealed. When she was fully disrobed, Darcy turned opposite her so that his mouth was near her pelvis and her mouth was near his cock. "In the end you will have no other choice but to agree that this is most certainly a date."

With that he parted her thighs and began the assault. His fingers probed her slick folds and delved into her wetness. As he did so, his tongue searched her nether regions, diving, lapping, deftly manipulating her into slowly building ecstasy.

At the same time, Lizzy caressed Darcy's member, rubbing her face on it, softly nibbling it between her lips, her tongue darting out to taste him and then envelop a portion of his length in her mouth. It was exquisite, the feel of his cock rubbing her tongue and the roof of her mouth as Darcy pleasured her. She hovered at the precipice of her orgasm, for what seemed hours, as they devoured one another.

Finally, as she exploded, Darcy pulled out of her mouth while continuing to lap and stroke away at her core, unrelenting as her orgasm went on and on. Finally when it was waning, Darcy turned around and found a condom which he'd earlier put inside the drawer of the nightstand.

Without missing a beat he rolled it on and plunged inside a still panting Lizzy. Soon she began crying out in pleasure, orgasming again to the point that she could not tell if or when one ended and another began. He groaned with every vibration. Lizzy could tell he was holding on, but only just. Finally, he roared in explosion and both merged in the white ecstatic heat. Soon after, Lizzy and Darcy collapsed into sleep under the covers.

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*the Tunnel: www dot tripadvisor dot com /LocationPhotoDirectLink-g46989-i20466939-Cloudcroft_New_Mexico dot html

*Margaret Cameron- I love this post about her. I can see the screenprint being the one with the woman with a butterfly on her forehead:

fromthebygone dot wordpress dot com /tag/julia-margaret-cameron/

* Jacques Louis David, Cupid and Psyche

* www dot pigtailsinpaint dot com /2011/04/page/4/

* * *

To everyone, esp loveinthebattlefield, thank you for your comments so far! You are great.

As to this installment: comments? anyone? please and thank you (insert smiley face) Which installment has been your favorite so far? I'd love to know. I can be persuaded to post during the week if I get at least 5 comments.


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

* * *

 _You've got a lot to learn_

She thought she was awake, eyes opening with his body wound around her. But it was so strange, she couldn't account for the rushing of a waterfall, her heart lurched when she realized their bed was suspended in a sort of tree house fashion, at the pinnacle of an immensely high water fall. The calls of eagles circled closer and closer, flapping around her in a cacophony which easily drowned out the thundering cascade. Their swooping flight was a message for her that she couldn't make out. Were they threatening her to get out of their nest? Were they warning her?

She looked around everso carefully, afraid any movement would result in her fall from this monumental height. At first she saw nothing but when she looked at the foot of the bed again, there was an ancient chalice filled with water. How had she not noticed this before? She reached for it and in an instant found she had awakened, half sitting on the regular antique bed, in the room where she'd originally slumbered. The only thing out of the ordinary was a distant chiming of bells she presumed to be some antique bell and pulley system in this hotel. She looked around at the normal room and curled up to try to return to sleep.

xox

It was for naught. She could never sleep in after drinking. Her attempts started out well enough, remembering his seductions at the club, the shop and then last night. Her heart gave frightening tugs as she thought of That Man. Her mind couldn't make sense of this new feeling and tried to make sense of it. Instead, with a complete lack of inner filter, she lay vulnerable to recollections of every intense moment since she'd met _him_ , and those other memories intruded.

Memories of their all-too-frequent head butting over artistic decisions. Too many of which ended up going his way. Then there was his officious advice giving about her artistic temperament, career, and Wickham's warnings, many of which became eerily true….Her heart seemed to rend with the multiplicity of information, declaring itself unable to process what the mind could not. Where her heart gave up, her mind could not, continuing its perseverations.

xox

She lay there, her mind whirling, even as her body was occupying this dreamy bed, with an even dreamier man, caressing her body. She hardly noticed him, sleepily engrossed in her ruminations.

Well, she did notice him, remembering all the things he said about her designs. He hadn't liked the later era she'd used. He thought she could have sent the designs sooner than she did. It seemed, even now, he was forever checking up on her work. She knew his backdrops had a lot to do with her costumes, but still. He was so concerned, like he was afraid she'd make him look bad and ruin the production.

His harsh critiques of her work reminded her of other occasions in her artistic career of critiques which she'd rather forget. As much as she disliked Caroline, she respected her work. Lizzy was not a little hurt when Caroline had popped into the shop with Charles once and had sneered at the work they did, calling it _decent enough for people who couldn't create their own work._ Maeve had been furious but Lizzy was used to such criticism.

Her own mother, who constantly scoffed at Lizzy's desire to make clothes and costumes, calling her it 'inconsequential to the cause of agriculture.' Even when she made most of Lydon and Kitty's show outfits, her mother hardly complimented her, merely saying, 'I suppose that will do. It's cheaper than store bought. Just make sure it doesn't fall apart or anything. I know how you aren't careful about your work.' This added insult to injury, and it was a very personal sort of dig her mother made.

Lizzy had more than a couple of moments when her engineering hadn't met up to the architecture in her head. A particularly embarrassing episode involving a bandage dress she'd designed that popped open at an inopportune moment in public came to mind. She had made the number for prom, black lace and skin peeked through draped scarlet taffeta strips. Except, she'd finished it just an hour before prom and hadn't time to test out whether the stitches would hold. Just when she was dancing to Safety Dance, her left boob popped free of the lace and taffeta, in the middle of the dancefloor. While several people early in the night complimented Lizzy on her design, the same people were laughing at her when she had her accident. It was mortifying. Lizzy learned then to at least prepare more.

Even as she had grown, becoming better at her work, more accomplished, it wasn't acknowledged by those from whom she needed it most: Her own parents and siblings had yet to come to any of the productions she'd costumed. and didn't even ask to see pictures. Come to think of it, Jane was the only one who saw her work outside of 4-H, besides the Phillips and Gardiners.

xox

How could she do her work with someone who was so distracting…and… and… It was really hard to think and to maintain such a tense posture in bed when one's bedmate was becoming amorous, Lizzy groused inwardly, trying to repress the inner turmoil. She became more and more tense with each kiss.

"Is everything alright"? He asked.

"Fine, I just have a bit of a headache. I drank too much and slept too little." She felt him move around behind her, embracing her, pecking her on the cheek, more chastely, then getting out of bed. He was silent although she could hear occasional zipping and rustling and the like. She assumed he was readying himself.

She continued to lie there, her back to him, fuming at his silence. He didn't try very hard, did he? He was probably being condescending in his mind about how she was now being silent. Well, let him. She'd be silent the whole trip. "I think I'll take a shower."

"Take your time. I'll get ready to go downstairs." From beneath his lashes, Darcy subtly regarded Lizzy's porcelain form as she waded with the duvet across the room to the bath. She thought he sounded aloof as ever.

Darcy made quick work setting the suite to rights, packing both their possessions into their respective bags and going downstairs with his I Pad. Seating himself at one of the dining tables, Darcy then busied himself with prop lists and his own production notes until Lizzy came down to breakfast.

She hadn't even poured the coffee when he turned, doing that intense thing he did with his eyes. _I was thinking a double set with pearls would do nicely for the wedding, don't you?_

"My, how a young man's thoughts turn easily from introduction, to seduction to marriage, in just that order." Lizzy knew she sounded too sarcastic. She couldn't help it.

"I didn't mean you." His mouth was quirked up.

That really irritated her. "Of course you wouldn't. But you think nothing of ordering my work, and every detail of our time, down to the second of this trip, do you?"

"How could I order this trip? Do you think the accident was my fault? Bingley getting sick was my doing? That's absurd! And as for the other things… no, I don't want to talk about it" (his voice began to rise) "I thought we'd been over this. Why do you have to misread…. Nevermind!... Gah! It's so- so- frustrating. How can we go from an incredible afternoon and intimate, mindblowing sex" (the latter words said in a stage whisper)" to you willfully misunderstanding everything I say and do? You're so confusing!" He widened his eyes and leaned toward her to emphasize the word confusing.

"You're one to talk. Frustrating? Confusing? What about you!?" She whispered furiously.

"What about me?" His brows knit.

Before her mind could catch up, her mouth opened, spewing out sentiments from she knew not where. It hadn't even been her train of thought before, but, then, she couldn't tell him her deepest doubts. He'd only reinforce them.

Instead, she spoke fiercely in low tones, "I experience such differing accounts of you as to puzzle me exceedingly. Before I ever met you, a certain unfortunate man tells me about how hurt he was by his old family friend. I had no idea you were one and the same man who had taken over the production via correspondence. Then I meet you, having no idea who you are, and you seduce me. Later, this old friend tells me you are a half cocked visionary. But then, others tell me what a loyal, generous friend and relation you are. You vacillate wildly from ordering my career to seduction, sometimes in less than 24 hours. Towards me you alternate between critical and complimentary, obsessed and indifferent- all equally officious. Regardless of your ex-friend's character, his warnings seem to come true and I am afraid that they all will come true. Is it any wonder I am confused, and frustrated?"

"It sounds like you've already decided I'm either mad or a villain. You accused me of running hot to cold and yet it seems you're doing the same. A great manipulator is skillful at taking enough of the truth to make his fictions convincing. If my ex friend is so unfortunate, how can you believe him? Don't try to sketch my character this morning, I don't think it will do either one of us any good." His voice was quiet and eyes dark.

She held his stare, unflinching. "I'm afraid if I don't sketch your character now, I'll regret it." When he flinched, Lizzy pushed herself from the table and stood. "I've finished my coffee. I don't think I have an appetite for breakfast."

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The two walked out in less than companionable silence. Lizzy busied herself on the drive home with lists for the production while Darcy put in earbuds and was listening to his period playlist for relaxation.

By the time they were passing White Sands, Darcy decided to say something. "I can't tell you about my history with a certain man because it will out certain situations that are not mine, but that of a loved one. I imagine that if Lydon had such a secret, you'd sooner seek my trust than reveal his secret. It is a story who only its experiencer has the right to tell. This isn't dishonesty, which I abhor, this is a matter of personal safety, even."

Lizzy frowned in confusion. What did Lydon have to do with such a big secret? Her brother couldn't keep a secret if he tried. But Lydon could also take care of himself in the area of safety- well if he didn't do such asinine things…

She willed herself to concentrate on the rest of Darcy's statement. "It really is no wonder that you run hot and cold when my actions make little sense to you. I don't know that they make sense to me, all the time. I'm proud of what I do, what we do, but it is under good regulation, and my exacting standards always get good results from the production. I know what you say- what people say- about that, but afterward, many times, my production teammates have come back to thank me for the experience. I know I'm intense when I work, but I mean well. For you, it's more than that. I try hard to repress my feelings for you when at work. My intentions are nothing but the highest and if you let me… No, I'm getting ahead of myself. You are right to justify your own feelings. You need time. I propose that for now, we simply try to be in the moment and enjoy what is now."

Lizzy looked at him, suspiciously, considering his somewhat tangential 'proposal'."What do you mean?"

"I am suggesting that it might make sense if we were not to try yet to define it. Illusions of me, of you, will clear up if we are in the moment." Darcy answered.

She caught herself before rolling her eyes but pointed out, "Uh, you're speaking in nonsense language again."

"It's a practice in a lot of mystery schools. Mindfulness.* Be in the moment, experience what IS, from your inner observer. Notice how you feel, what is happening around you."

"Riiiiight."It sounded to her like some mystical comment Tia Lena would spout. Lena's esoteric ideas always turned out to be right, as ridiculous as they started out sounding. But this idea? That Darcy was saying it- made it hard to figure as being either valid or invalid. It made her head hurt worse to even contemplate.

"For example, just a moment ago you were involved in your lists. If my former experiences and our earlier argument are any indication, you were likely also muttering to yourself mentally somewhere in that pretty head of yours 'what a bastard Darcy was some day or another'. Meanwhile, we were driving in my very comfortable car, autumn leaves and the lightest covering of snow passing you by. I realize Alamogordo was nothing much to take in, but now we've just driven through White Sands*, a spectacular field of dunes in the distance. He glanced at her for verification."

She couldn't help but smile. "True."

He returned her smile, "And right next to you is a handsome man (if I do say so myself, not brag or anything) who would love nothing more than to hold your hand (for a start, anyway), the same man who made passionate love to you last night, and would have done again this morning except that you had a headache. Regardless, here he remains eager to hold your hand and enjoy the remaining car ride with the enchantress next to him."

"But what about when we get back to the theatre?" Lizzy asked.

"What about then? Your question seems to imply a question about us." Darcy's statement seemed to Lizzy to be a little smug.

Still she answered. "I suppose."

He went on, "And now you're off again anticipating future events while not enjoying the present. And if you'd been in the present- NOT in the past- you wouldn't be asking that question. I may live in the moment but I also have been eager to commit more. But, we're living in the moment, not reliving the past, so I won't bore you with those details. That's another lesson for another time, were we to consider other times. But we're only considering the now."

She rolled her eyes. "No, listen, again, if you were to consider the bulk of what you know of me, when have I ever said to you and what I have done, can you say that I have consistently indicated my interest in your company?"

She growled. "Well, yes, but-"

He stopped her. "No buts. Yes or no."

She didn't know whether to be mystified or to call bullshit. It felt a little like bullshit but he was so damn irresistible and she couldn't help but admit their liaisons had been enjoyable, and that he was the most fascinating man she'd ever met. Part of her admitted that she needed to see where this would go. Maybe he was right and their disagreements were mostly her stories. But she still couldn't answer him. "How about I avoid answering yes or no, you accept that for what it is, and I try your way of being in the present- for now."

"Fair enough. Now, how about coming a little closer?" She snuggled next to him, having determined that her lists were thoroughly gone over for the time being. He put on Day and Age* as they finished their drive in relative peace.

xox

While it was a Saturday, Lizzy and Darcy were met with a fairly full theatre when they returned. It was still early enough in the day that, after they had unpacked their treasures, both returned to production mode, inspired and energized.

Lizzy was consumed with trying her new pieces with each garment she'd mentally chosen them to accompany. After trying several different arrangements, Lizzy realized she'd inadvertently put the pearls just where Darcy had recommended them to go but the results were not as striking as she wanted. She continued to mix and match pieces until an idea struck. It would mean alterations to Darcy's mural. She cringed to think of having to break it to him but forged ahead, anyway. Lizzy was rewarded with the visual results.

The inspiration and instincts were correct: She had put coral and gold accents on the otherwise white adorned brides- some earrings here, a necklace there, hints of the hues in underpinnings and trims, while the grooms wore grass and indigo waistcoats. The bride and groom ensembles were in otherwise light neutral hues- creams, whites and light grays. By the time she was done, it was dinnertime and she wondered if he was even here, still.

With trepidation, Lizzy moved into the backstage area to request Darcy's viewing before she struck the items back into their stock areas. She came to a breathless halt upon seeing that he was altering the corresponding portion of mural with a book opened to none other than the David Psyche and Eros Painting, which held similar hues as had inspired her. Darcy's eyes flicked toward her when he heard her gasp."Come here, you need to see this."

He had been putting things away when she'd arrived and Lizzy patiently waited as he finished. Looking around, he saw that the rest of the theatre was likely having a meal or drink and so, with no witnesses took her hand. She led him to the shop where he had the same response upon viewing her work. I know. She whispered in response. The heavens seemed to agree as suddenly they were consumed with the rushing sound of a downpour outside.

He helped her strike the pieces to make quicker work. Both were unusually wordless in the endeavor. "Want to find a late dinner? How about I follow you?" They easily agreed upon a nearby favorite Italian joint. Dinner was consumed in separate contemplation, with spare but agreeable dialogue about the progress of their work. After they finished, it was past 9 and the sky was clear. She secretly hoped he'd ask her to go back to his room, but didn't voice these hopes after he moaned how exhausted he was. Lizzy asked to retrieve her things from the Mercedes then stowed them safely in her back seat. As she turned he gently took her shoulders and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

She responded to the kiss, her fingers combing through his curls. "What an unexpectedly lovely end to our adventure."

He smiled, pressing her form a little closer. "I should hope we are only in the middle of an adventure, but agree that it was lovely, Elizabeth." He was rewarded with another sweet kiss than ended far too soon. He was left standing against his car as she got into hers and drove away. He felt light rain drops falling and reluctantly went his own way to the place he was staying.

* mystery schools being those practices which become increasingly esoteric whether they are new age such as Eckhart Tolle, Don Miguel Ruiz, old, such as certain sects of Buddhism, Kabbalah, Gnosticism, Sufisim, or in between, as in Jungian Psychology- all teach some form of mindfulness/ being present in the moment. There's a lot more to them though which I will partially get to in the story. They often also contain 'messages to the few' vs messages to the many.

*Alamogordo is near White Sands. Photo/site of the far reaching gypsum dunes: www dot nps dot gov/whsa/index dot htm

*The Killers

* * *

 _There's something to be said for pushing through_

"Sonofabitch!" Lizzy nearly yelled.

"What?" Maeve looked up from hemming a dress.

"Maeve, I did it this time, and he wasn't even around for me to blame it on." Lizzy furiously removed pins from some pattern pieces, jabbing them into the pin cushion.

"Let me guess, you really did cut 3 sleeves." Maeve didn't even look up.

Lizzy thought Maeve sounded far to nonchalant about this disaster." How'd you know?"

It was maddening how the woman continued to work, unphased. "Lucky guess. The most common mistake made, not only by yourself. So?"

"So what? I thought you'd be a little bit more concerned." Lizzy unnecessarily, and repeatedly jabbed pins in and out of the pincushion.

She finally looked up and peered at Lizzy from behind granny glasses. "Of course I am, but what do you propose the solution is?"

Lizzy wished Maeve hadn't looked up, because the woman looked at her pointedly until she stopped poking the pincushion. "Well, I laid out the pattern and accidentally cut into part of the topskirt muslin which was pinned on the other side. That's why I didn't see it."

Maeve resumed her work. "Why didn't you just flip it and pin fabric on the both sides of the paper to prevent the mistake?"

Lizzy held up the offending pieces and the remainder of fabric which had been meant for a bigger skirt. "I must be tired. You're right. Anyway, I can make the top skirt cut away instead of being a solid skirt."

Maeve regarded the pieces she held up. "I actually think that would be a better design than the original. I like it."

Lizzy sighed. "Thank you. I'm too tired to fix it right now. I think I'll leave it and take a break for a few minutes."

"That's an excellent idea. Too bad we don't have any boys to give us neckrubs." Maeve stopped and did some neck circles.

"Heck, I'd settle for some chocolate. I think I'm going to hunt some down at the Gourmet Grocery." Lizzy said.

"That sounds fantastic, let me get my purse. Will you get me the chile chocolate?" Maeve presented Lizzy with money for her purchase.

Elizabeth was headed out the same time Darcy also was walking towards his car. "Hey, fancy running into you". He looked around surreptitiously before following Lizzy to her Toyota and enthusiastically greeting her in an ardent kiss, pinning her against the car.

After some minutes he pulled away and she looked up at him, "Well hello to you, too. How are things?"

Darcy wore a sheepish expression. "I um, made a… miscalculation and decided to take a break."

Lizzy looked incredulous. "What? You made-gasp- a mistake?"

He cleared his throat. "Careful Miss Bennet, I still have you in a compromising position. Should I remind you who's bigger?"

His finger tips drifted threateningly close to the most ticklish areas on her sides. "Alright, alright! Uncle."

He laced his hands through hers. "You gave up far too readily. I was hoping for a fight."

She squeezed his hands. "Well, unfortunately, I made a miscalculation of my own and I'm too tired to fight. In fact I was just getting a little sustenance in the form of chocolate for Maeve and myself."

"Why don't I drive us, I was headed to the Gourmet Grocery, too." She shivered under his intense gaze as they contined to hold hands.

They chattered about projects on the short trip there and back. Upon their return they popped back in the shop to give Maeve her requested treat. The three sat outside the department at the Costume Shop Babe's favorite bench where they often observed sartorial successes and failures walking down the mall to and from classes. Being that it was late evening on a weekend, no one was out except a few stars twinkling above.

They enjoyed conversation and sampled each other's snacks – Darcy had opted for sea salt chocolate while Lizzy had lavender chocolate. Each declared their own to be the best. Chocolate bars finished, the three returned to painstakingly problem solve and correct their mistakes. They wrapped up somewhere between 9 and 11 along with many other crew and went their own ways. It had been a typical day.

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The ambitious production was demanding of every last one of its members. While anticipated, the extent of labor seemed to have magically expanded in scope. The more the crew worked, the more seemed to need to be accomplished. Wandering students, faculty, family and friends would be drafted into sewing on a button or painting set pieces. Production ramped up to its most intense: the entire cast and crew's work hours totaled more per week than those spent on school. In fact, all the Theatre instructors gave extensions to any student involved in the production. Help was needed for building the clockwork stage and extra costumes, so the same instructors also gave extra credit to any student willing to volunteer time to sew, paint, weld, or fetch necessities for actors rehearsing long hours.

Lizzy, Jane, and their respective beaux, possibly even more than the rest, buckled down and made art, waiting until, again, they could just be. Then there would be time to regroup and see to personal lives, relationships, and other priorities. Lizzy wouldn't say anything to anyone but secretly wondered if it would be done by Opening Night, much less by the First Run. It made her head pound to think about it and so she didn't, instead choosing to pour over her endless lists between her thousand projects. Lizzy and Jane knew their family found them to be wholly erratic in their attentions, as Theatre's schedule demanded it.

At least Bingley and Darcy had the same demands made on their schedules. Darcy had done this sort of thing enough to reassure any doubters that it would all get done. They were absorbed in completing every detail in preparation for that conclusion and had their own share of setbacks such as the time that one of the students sat on a delicate settee and it gave way into far too many pieces. Bingley was livid but managed to salvage it with the assistance of her girlfriend's antique restoration expert Uncle D. It had taken precious time out of Bingley's schedule but he was able to wrangle up extra help and figured out how to delegate tasks so he could focus on the most important pieces.

Darcy's wrinkle was running out of certain paints and not being able to find them in town. He would have been forced to make a run to Albuquerque but Caroline proved useful and she made the run with her new boyfriend. Apparently Mike was more conscientious than she, as they made the trip in record time, although both looked rather windblown.

Caroline enthused about what a daring driver he was. Darcy made some polite remark then shifted conversation, saying his thanks, took his paint and offered to buy the couple dinner. Caroline went into raptures about what an impressive meal she'd already had, looking positively predatory. Thankfully Darcy saw her look was aimed at her new boyfriend and not at himself. He didn't want to know anymore, simply stating, in that case, he would need to say his goodbyes unless they wanted to come in and see his work. While Mike indicated he was quite interested in the work, Caroline practically dragged him off.

Spare Bennet family members and friends were also glad to volunteer. Charles charmed Lydon into helping weld the clockwork proscenium and set. Aunt Phil and Uncle D shared their respective talents and resources with the costume and props departments, embellishing, loaning, restoring and the like. The Bennet ladies all had basic 4-H sewing and everyone came in one night to hem a couple of exceedingly long trains and to do the odd sewing job on various pieces.

Even Francesca came in to the costume shop, to Maeve's vast amusement. Having learned that her nemesis, Mercedes Lucas was volunteering her time in the props department, Francesca was not to be outdone. She mostly talked and passed out snacks, her hemming being generally taken over by other volunteers who happened to be in the room. Maeve took Lizzy aside and told her that she had earned her respect for having that woman as a mother. Lizzy was gratified to see that even Maeve could admit- in a roundabout way- that she was wrong. Such moments may have contained irritants but also made the endless whirlwind more bearable to Lizzy.

xox

The rest of the month leading up to opening night proceeded in a similar fashion with Lizzy and Jane spending any spare time with their men between working and school. It was not in their current reality for the Bennet sisters to think oddly of their relationships at this point. An erratic schedule hid many a relationship problem. Jane remained ensconced with Bingley at Netherfield. To outsiders, both were blissful, but inwardly, Jane struggled to come to terms with the multitude of changes in her life, in the midst of the busiest semester she'd had to date.

Even Charles had no idea what ponderings Jane's serene smile hid. He had expressed his pleasure at her company most fervently, and often. Jane knew that she had been happiest this past several weeks than she'd been in a long time. She wanted it to continue. Charles often made suggestions on how this could be accomplished and she listened, and planned, worried at the risk, but compelled to take it.

xox

Lizzy reverted to her usual schedule, bunking at Maya's when she was too busy to go back to The Farm. She and Darcy had an unspoken agreement to do no more than make out in stolen moments such as in the evening when they took the occasional dinner break together, both returning to their respective shops looking a little more rumpled than they had before the break.

Darcy often had that look in his eyes, afterward. Practicing being in the moment afforded her greater awareness in those exquisite interludes, and she knew she saw something, even if he didn't say it. It was that look he had when he told her she misunderstood. What was she misunderstanding? She tried not to presume anything. He looked injured, almost. Vulnerable. Haunted. She prodded, in that way that insecure people do, when they want a certain answer. He'd wipe that look off his face and resume his pleasurable activities, in attempt to wipe her memory of any lingering uncertainties.

If she thought about a future with him, Lizzy resolved not to be the first to speak of it, not when the production's continued well oiled machinery was at stake. Not when he kept trying to redirect her- and she loved the way he did that. They nearly went all the way a few times, when they recalled where they were- in the green room late at night, in the parking lot ensconced in his car, hiding in the rows of costumes- and it was inevitable that someone would make a noise and they would recall they were about to do the deed in the middle of everyone.

But still, she would remember those questions about their future and push them down. Certainly, if they were to disagree about the direction of their relationship, passions, already running high, would explode and things could very possibly grind to a halt. She didn't want to risk it.

During those weeks, Lizzy endeavored to do as her paramour suggested: to think- be- in the moment. It was true this practice created more of a sense of peace. She couldn't help but wonder if there was a price, though. Would this damming of her thoughts eventually cause a flood of emotion that would sweep her somewhere she didn't want to go? For the moment, every feeling had its outlet in finalizing designs, fittings, finishing costumes, and the like.

Darcy would sometimes watch her when he thought no one saw. He underestimated people, especially Maeve. Of course, she had been given a charge by Aphrodite and would not shirk on what role she played. But neither could she interfere. She saw the doubts on both sides, and knew they had to play themselves out. She was there to create, facilitate and enjoy the production. Well, that and keep her mentee sane.

xox

Sleeping less than 8 hours a night, working over 12 hour days for weeks on end caused Lizzy to become especially brittle, like when an actor exploded over the tight fit of his waistcoat, or the director let her know how much he hated the way a certain gown looked under the lights. After such incidents, she'd slip into the bathroom and allow the tears to flow, then splash cool water on her face and re apply her makeup. She'd return to work, put in something like Florence and the Machine or Kongos and it would energize her to keep going. And it was fun to watch Maeve groove out to the music.

Maeve's firm direction kept the shop- and her charge- on course, allowing Lizzy to work things through on her own while steering her in a productive direction. Lizzy just had to get through this time of little sleep, when she was eating, breathing, manifesting costumes. She looked forward to spending time how she pleased, imagining that time would also be free of any challenges to her ego or emotional state.

xox

While two Bennet sisters were occupied with theatre and the men therein, other Bennets had equally demanding projects to which they attended. For certain, the foray into a day or two volunteering at the Theatre was just that. They had little time to spare as the fall was the season when fairs wrapped up and recordbooks were finalized. Of course Francesca was a driving force of the Meryton Milkcows' yearbook accomplishment, as she insisted that she would not be outdone by their rival 4-H group due south, the Golden Geese, and her nemesis Mrs. Goulding.

The three younger Bennets were caught up in their mother's schemes as usual. Mr. Bennet had his ever present university studies, but could be prevailed upon to join the other Bennets in their dining room anytime that charming Wickham made dinner. He made dinner for the Bennet household rather frequently of late, and on those occasions Lydon was on his best behavior.

The Bennet household was suspiciously devoid of the usual Lydon-Edward arguments. If anyone noticed, no one said anything.

* * *

The pace has accelerated a little in keeping with the whirl of a big production. I hope it made sense, though!

If you have questions about how the Theatre production process works, I will be happy to give you more info. I hope it wasn't too confusing.

comments are so very welcome: please do!


	14. Chapter 14

I was of a mood to post, so here you go:

Just a short one until the weekend, where you may need to prepare for some HMS and pull out the blue couch. I'm an angst weenie so it won't be in use for long. Here is almost an interlude leading us up to the-er - climax. Well one of them, anyway.

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

* * *

Task 3- Lemonworld

"I can't believe this is the end of it! I'm exhausted, and you look like you are too." Lizzy and Jane left the shop, having finished the final wardrobe notes on the production. Despite her proclamation of fatigue, Elizabeth anticipated that her opening night high that would likely persist into the wee hours of the opening night party. "I insist on taking you, dear sister, to the Mediterranean Deli to thank you for putting up with all my Costumezilla moments."

"That sounds grand, as long as we're back home in time for Bingley – he's going to pick me up this afternoon so we can get ready together."

The sisters seated themselves and waited for their order, both quiet out of habit and fatigue. "So, Miss Bennet, it will not do for us to sit here in such a dull manner. I should talk about the décor of this establishment and then you shall say something about its food." Lizzy teased.

"Lizzy." Jane smiled at her sister's attempts. "What do you really want to talk about?"

She hedged. "Things are definitely different with you."

"And you, too." The sisters simply regarded each other, unable to formulate explanations as the waiter brought their order of Spanokopita, Stuffed Grape Leaves, Green Chile Hummus, Tabouleh, Kebabs, Chocolate Covered Pecan Baklava for desert and copious quantities of Turkish Coffee to drink. Once their hunger was sated, Lizzy again pressed Jane who again evaded conversation and suggested they discuss things on the way back home. After all, preparations beckoned for Opening Night. Turning on some Morrissey and driving down the highway, conversation flowed more easily.

Jane stared out at the mountains and began. "Things with Charles are progressing…I don't really have more to say about that because we haven't even talked about it. I must admit it's been nice to be with him at Netherfield. I've appreciated being out of the family drama. It was weird to take my family therapy class while being away so much. I got to look at our family from a different perspective."

Lizzy frowned slightly while watching the road. "So, the reason we've not talked is because you're busy analyzing me?" The upturned corners of her mouth belied the statement.

Jane had to laugh. "You? Never! My head has been full of the situation with dad and Lydon. For the past few weeks, it seems to be getting worse- Mary told me they have nearly come to blows at least a couple times a week, and Wickham has broken it up every time. I can't find it within myself to go home just to face that- It's not my job to fix it, its our parents. I just want to be drama free for awhile."

"Ugh. Now that you mention it, I am kind of dreading the return to drama now that I'll be at home more- and away from the Theatre, ironic as that is. At least I'll have you." Lizzy glanced over to catch a guilty look.

Jane sighed. "Well, not exactly. Charles is planning to stay here until his lease is up in December."

"Whatever will you do with yourselves?" Lizzy reached over and squeezed Jane's hand in congratulations.

"I think we'll be able to find something to occupy our time! And what about you? What plans have you made with Darcy?" Jane squeezed her sisters hand back to emphasize the question.

Lizzy shot her sister a warning look and put her hand back on the steering wheel. "I admit that he made vague but suggestive references to us spending opening night together. Sometimes, he even talks about how Jorge will like me when we meet, how much he will enjoy showing me around Santa Fe. He says even weirder stuff about his patrons and their sartorial inclination, how New York really isn't a long plane ride to Albuquerque. Then he stops himself and reminds me that he isn't being in the moment when he says that".

"That's weird." Jane stared hard into the distance, wheels turning in her head.

"He has this idea that being in the moment without expectation will keep us from fighting, keep me from judging him or making a story about him." Lizzy glanced over, seeing her sister's expression.

Jane's eyebrows raised, "Oh, he's using a counseling technique."

"He said it was from mystery schools, whatever that means." Lizzy rolled her eyes.

"Well, yeah, where do you think counselors got it from?" Jane replied.

Lizzy made a thoughtful humming noise, "Well, whatever it is, I can't help but anticipate certain things, like tonight. And, I am afraid that spending time in the presence of our family tonight may put him off me, at least off of anything long term. But maybe that would be for the best. I couldn't stand to be some opening night fuck before he takes off to Santa Fe."

Jane wrinkled her brow in contemplation. "He's already seen your family and still seems to want to be with you, not just in THAT way. If you doubt that, you're blind. He stares at you all the time and is always trying to do things to be helpful. I recommend you do your thing with Darcy and ignore our family tonight. They have everything they need to work things out between them. I'm done with being in the middle of that drama, at any rate. And you know what? It feels good."

Now Lizzy's brow furrowed," I don't exactly advocate being in the middle of our family's fights. But sometimes it helps to present a different point of view, or be there to listen. Sometimes things get messy and I don't need to make it more complicated by analyzing it. Just like Darcy suggested- instead of making up stories, just let it be what it is."

"And what is 'it'?" Jane queried.

Lizzy didn't share with her sister her other motivation for avoiding stories: to avoid what story was true about Darcy. It wouldn't matter what she said, she suspected Jane to be on 'his side anyway. And so, she kept this matter to herself. So she used a different example: "I don't know, that's a good question, my dear sister….. If I follow my friend's philosophy, it is easier to just let mom ramble for example, that than to make stories up about why she does it and get all judgy and more irritated."

"You are right, I think there is a happy medium but I still have some junk to think about before I am comfortable with 'just letting it be'. Besides, I want to stay at Netherfield as long as I possibly can. You know that I do miss you, though?" Jane reached over and again grasped her sister's hand.

Lizzy squeezed it reassuringly. "It's OK Jane- we all need a break sometime, G-d knows you deserve it for being the sweetest person in the universe."

This encouraged Jane to inform her sister that she had already been making plans to transfer to UNM and move in with Charles next semester. There was something about rushing down the freeway, windows down, stereo blaring Love and Anger, that made sharing her secret irresistible.

Lizzy's eyes bulged. "Why Jane, you sly thing! I didn't know you had it in you! I am glad for you but admit I shall miss you exceedingly."

"I doubt you shall miss me terribly because you'll be occupied contemplating a pair of fine chocolate eyes! Jane teased. Her sister growled. You know at Charles's party, there will be plenty of dark corners for you to torture Darcy, or for him to torture you, you know whatever floats your boat…"

"Jane!" Lizzy's voice was rasing in proportion to the color of her face.

Jane's barbs continued and she only laughed as Lizzy became more and more discomposed, her face turning a dark shade of red. She didn't realize how close to home she hit. It was too much to take when finally Jane imitated Darcy's now infamous attempt to impress Lizzy about post punk "I personally enjoy Control. I mean who wouldn't with such a fine specimen before me…"

Lizzy was still sensitive to Jane's prodding. Her sister had no problem with getting in the middle of that drama.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPPxoxNM

By this time the sisters had arrived home and were just exiting the car. It was an opportune moment to retaliate. "That's it, Jane, you aren't escaping this time!" Lizzy ran inside to get the water pistols. Jane readied herself behind a shrub on the lawn. Dear Jane was in for one of their water pistol fights- instituted after Jane's accident had altered their previous routine of wrestling to settle differences. Lizzy threw her a water gun and they started shooting each other like two badass super heroines in an action movie.

Bingley and Darcy drove up just as the two were both running out of ammo. Neither was a clear victor as both were soaked. The men looked at each other with wicked expressions as they observed how nicely wet clothes displayed their figures from such a vantage point.

They called the sister's attention. Jane blushed, Lizzy laughed – as each attempted to straighten herself.

Jane recovered more quickly, finding another source of provocation. "Why Darcy, those are certainly a pair of fine eye-glasses!" At this comment, Lizzy snorted.

Darcy looked at her strangely, thanking her, explaining it was a gift from his brother, while Lizzy glowered. "Thanks, Jane, apparently your sister disagrees. Not cool enough for you? Would you find me more attractive if I rifled around in the Salvation Army bin to find a more suitable pair?"

Lizzy sputtered. "Uh, No! – Jane's right- I apologize, I was reacting to Jane. She's provoked me one too many times today."

Darcy quirked his brow. "I see, so does that mean if I incur your wrath it will result in your cornering me with a water pistol? Let's see if I can find suitable material to feed your ire…Jane, care to assist? You've proven to be quite helpful before…"

Jane crossed her arms self consciously and looked nervously at her sister. "Uh, no. Come to think of it, I've sworn off of getting involved in conflict for a class project. I, um, slipped just now. And, Bingley's here so we can spend the time before the show in more pleasant manner. "

Lizzy looked accusingly at her sister. "It is more pleasant, I give you that, but since when does avoiding conflict in order to go make out with your boyfriend count as a class project?"

Darcy responded with alacrity,"That sounds like a class project I'd like to sign up for."

Bingley smiled, teasing,"You want to make out with me, too, Darcy? I didn't know you cared that way…"

Darcy rolled his eyes," Don't be stupid, I was talking about Miss Bennet"

"Well in that case I think you may provoke my wrath." It was Bingleys turn to look accusingly at his friend.

Darcy shook his head and chuckled,"I meant Lizzy"

"Well, that's more like it. I'm with Jane. Shall we?" Bingley turned to Jane.

"But I'm all wet." She held her arms akimbo.

"I know. Whatever shall we do about it? Get in!" He growled. She eagerly obliged anticipating how he planned to remedy the situation.

Lizzy watched the car pull out, growing smaller as it got farther down the dirt road and finally disappeared down the highway.

Darcy had taken off his sunglasses as Lizzy caught that inscrutable look in his eyes. "Now, how shall I keep you occupied?"

Whatever the look meant, her mind could not process. Her body had already formulated its own wisdom and response, propelling her forward. Lizzy found herself in a mutual embrace, his lips upon hers, the sensation much more pleasant than it ought to be for a man who was such an unknown quantity.

I have no idea why I'm doing this, she admitted.

"Well don't think I'm letting go of you, now that you are," Darcy whispered.

"You have to let go of me sometime, I'm getting you wet." Lizzy archly responded.

"No, I don't intend to let go of you. I enjoy you as wet as possible." His kisses again enveloped her words and any further thought on the matter. All she wanted at this moment was to continue such a delightful diversion.

Unconscious thoughts raced as she enjoyed being worshiped by this gorgeous specimen. Hell, despite his formidable exterior, Lizzy had to admit his good points. He was intelligent, talented, and his prodigious work was aesthetically evocative, just like he was. His many good qualities often intimidated and mystified her. Was there truly substance to his beauty? If so, was he truly a good sort of man? Or, like so many artists she knew, were the depths a murky and uninviting quagmire? Trying to be 'in the moment', these thoughts and the accompanying contradictory feelings were remanded to another place in her awareness while senses were consumed in other pleasures.

As if to answer that deeper awareness, Darcy, pulled away and, taking Lizzy's hand invited, "I have something I'd like to show you; do you think you'd like to –ah- get ready for the show over at Netherfield?" And how could she resist, with his stumbling request and deer-like look in his eyes?

* * *

I didn't edit this heavily before posting. I may go back an do it this weekend. Like I said, I was just of a mood to post.

Pretty please, comment :) It makes my day!


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

I am feeling a bit on the lazy side and am not currently planning on re editing the former chapter although I am not pleased with it. If I get at least one well written, kind comment encouraging me that the would like a different version of the chapter, I will re do it.

Comments give me energy- share some, please? Thanks as always to my faithful readers.

blue couch warning

MA warning- not in that order though!

* * *

She Sells Sanctuary

 **Yes, More MA**

They traveled to Netherfield where he pulled Lizzy up, two steps at a time, up the outside stairs of the veranda and into his suite. Before he opened the door, Darcy again embraced her in a passionate kiss, tantalizing every particle of her being until all she felt was yearning.

Maddeningly, he pulled away, opening the door. "I need to show you this before we go any further. I'm prepared to explain." As Darcy spoke, he continued to trail his fingers delicately down her shoulders, over her biceps to the inside of her elbows, and finally her wrists and fingers.

"Okay?!" Lizzy whispered, looking at him oddly, following him. Walking into Darcy's studio, Lizzy found dozens of impressions of herself. "What is this about? Have you been surreptitiously drawing me?" Lizzy parted from him to more closely examine herself in his sketches and paintings.

He turned and looked out the window, nervously running his hands through his hair, "trying to explain these sketches to you is much more nervewracking than when I presented my DNA series to the jury at the prestigious _Gallery in Soho. These were from a long time ago- things I'd see in my mindseye. Imagine my great astonishment when you walked off those pictures in that club."

She didn't know what to make of his explanation. Lizzy always thought of herself as being 'the quirky one', not an object of someone's dreams. "You're not serious."

When Darcy turned to her he bore an intense expression, "Deadly. I see things sometimes. I guess my visions of you happened to be foreboding of a pleasant experience. Do you think you can believe me? I need you to believe me."

She used the excuse of poring over the multitude of images to avoid looking at him. "Honestly, it seems far fetched."

He sighed, and paced in front of the window for a moment then turned. "Maybe it would be more believable if you compared it with my body of work. Then you could see that the older pictures are indicative of my old style and the newer ones are consistent with the newer. If it weren't your image what would the work tell you?"

Lizzy concentrated on the various pieces, "Well, I see a progression in the various sketches characteristic of the changes your work has undergone. And the images themselves are wearing costumes from the eras that you followed at the time, not the ones I've worn, even if they are all consistent with my age now. But then, the ones that are older show a similar progression of your work in the materials used."

"Well, it seems you do follow my work." He caught her eye and grinned.

"I am quite a fan." She blushed, realizing that her admission made her at least a little hypocritical. Who was following who?

He approached, hesitantly pulling her into his arms. "Are we OK, then? I really want us to be OK. I want you to be OK."

She nodded and turned her face up, brushing her lips with his. Questions washed through her mind about his visions, but now was hardly the time to ask. Darcy had resumed his sensual pursuits, which sparked Lizzy's passionate nature which she'd previously held under such good regulation. Her body's impulses warred with inner reservations, forging a delicious conflict. She wondered if it was mercenary to allow his attentions. To be admired by such a man was an erotic ego boost. _Screw it. I'm just going to enjoy this_ , Lizzy decided.

"I've dreamed of this since our last time. There's something I've wanted to do. Would you take off your clothes?" He whispered.

Lizzy pulled away, and, looking into Darcy's eyes, began to slowly strip her clothes. She was gratified at his response, staring at her, parting his lips and licking them. Darcy covered the chaise and had her recline, as he prepared a palette containing only 1 color and no canvas or paper. Lizzy's interest was piqued.

Darcy took a soft brush with the silky bristles and dabbed into the henna toned mixture. "Look into my eyes, don't peek, or I'll blindfold you." From the corner of her eyes, she saw him tracing curved, stylized designs on her hands. She felt the tip of Darcy's brush tease and tickle her fingers, running up her wrists in a viney writhing fashion. The brush was an extension of him, working its way up her arms, around her rib cage, all the while, Lizzy trained her eyes on his.

Each wordlessly communicated the immense sensual pleasure derived from the giving and taking of the experience. The fine and soft brush tickled, and the paint started out as cool, becoming tingly and Lizzy detected an odor of cocoa.

"I think I know your secret," Mr Darcy, Lizzy teased as her eyes glimmered.

"You have no idea." His intensity was startling and yet the brush remained gentle on her skin. She knew that any talented artist was able to render while keeping their eyes on the subject, so it was no mystery why he could perform two tasks simultaneously. But the statement was meant to convey more.

"Whatever do you mean? "She teased.

"From the moment we met, I've considered you the handsomest woman of my acquaintance, of many talents. I'm a selfish man and I want to experience your talents for myself as I share mine with you. I want to give you as much as you give me."

In a haze of pleasure, she couldn't fully absorb his meaning past the sensual. The brush, dipped intermittently in the warm cocoa mixture, continued to meander its way about her body, down her back. She grew more and more aroused as he brushed some design on her buttocks, her back arching into his work.

She was disappointed when he stopped, until he told her he had to make sure the design was dry, and blew on her. She groaned and he abandoned the task.

Darcy then put her in ecstatic agony when the brush swirled lightly under her arms. At her sharp intake of breath, he goaded, "Now, now, it wouldn't do for my work to be mussed. I'd only have to start all over again. Not that I'm complaining, but is that what you want?" He had taken her hand and held it tightly over her head as the brush continued to torture her ticklish under arm and rib cage area. Darcy's ravenous eyes fed on her sensual torture, she could tell, but she could only comply with his direction.

She wasn't certain whether it was a relief that his attentions turned to her breasts or not. The cool moistness of the brush teased her nipples erect, and the weight of her breasts undulated as she took ever shuddering breaths with each stroke. He was not kissing her, only watching, hardly taking his eyes off of hers although he clearly couldn't resist glimpsing her breasts, his eyes flicking to them as she breathed.

She wasn't quite sure how she was able to remain in her reclining position, as she surely wanted to heave her body on to his, rip his pants off and allow his phallus to sink into her core. She needed this more and more as Darcy painted his way down her torso, her breaths became more and more ragged. He finally tore his eyes away from hers as he had to make his way down her body.

She watched in the mirror while he paid exquisite care to her hips and stomach, their curvature womanly yet lithe. She anticipated his brush stroking lower and lower, only finding greater agonies when it detoured to tickle her feet. Darcy uttered another warning as he held her legs in place. She inhaled high pitched whimpering gasps as the brush's serpentine movement slowly ascended her shapely legs.

His eyes were pinned to her triangle and Darcy's hand slid up her inner thighs, parting them, the tips of his fingers lingering at her apex, now drenched. He then leaned back a little, slowly sizing up his work. His eyes were on hers again while his tongue flicked out to taste her essence on his fingers. "Almost finished." He told her, and she wondered when it would stop. She didn't want it to stop, but wanted a conclusion.

"Stay like that" he commanded. Then she watched as his brush put the finishing touches on her body, his masterpiece. The brush dipped into the chocolate paint again and painted her inner thighs, then spiraled into her outer folds, and teased her inner lips. She cried out and bucked as the brush tickled her clit. "Ah, ah, now I shall have to start over," he chided.

"All over?" Lizzy groaned.

"Well, just here" Darcy replied as a cool moist cloth removed the paint from her center.

"Again." His voice again commanded her to still as best she could. "Stay still."

Again the brush spiraled around her center and dipped in to tickle her clit. Lizzy desperately wanted thrust her pelvis toward the tormenting instrument but instead cried out yet again, this time a guttural howl, her hands clutching at the chaise's armrests. "Please finish. Finish me. Please." She beseeched him.

Wordlessly he took her hand and guided it to join in the effort of her pleasure while he took himself in hand. Lizzy felt a new agony as she was further aroused by his movements, while, at the same time, her senses were distracted from the circumspection of self pleasure. Lizzy could see Darcy getting more frantic in his efforts as he stared at her. His breathing was more labored, moans escaping from time to time. Darcy's arms, chest and thighs looked powerfully virile as he lowered himself and then pulled back up, repeatedly. She watched in fascination as Darcy came, his seed bursting forth, his body jerking his face contorted in ecstasy.

"Don't stop. Please. I want to see you come. Come for me. I love to watch you touch yourself." He whispered endlessly into her ear between his probing kisses. Finally his finger began lightly brushing over the tip of her clit. This stimulation proved to be more than she could bear and as she frantically probed her core the long surge became an overwhelming tidal force that seemed to go on forever.

* * *

Precious Things

Some MA at the beginning

The pillow talk in which they'd engaged was unexpected but welcome. He asked what she and Jane had been tussling over. She evaded the uncomfortable truth that he was the reason. Instead she recounted the dialogue about their family.

His response seemed to contradict their agreement about not having 'stories.' "Relationships are very messy. I've realized I'm more successful just showing that I care and offering support, no matter what I think of someone's choices. I should have been more aware of what was going on but should have… well I was too fucked up to see it at the time. .." Darcy shrugged "But, maybe that's the difference between my family and yours. And maybe you aren't as messed up as I was at that age. But that's enough about my stuff…I do know one person whose business I want to interfere with."

Lizzy wondered what Darcy was alluding to when he talked about relationships. He had been vague, yet it was clear that he didn't want to continue the conversation- not that it was such a good time, anyway. "Well I did rather enjoy your interference."

"Good. So did I. Very much. Much more successful sort of interference, wouldn't you say?" He got up to find a warm wet cloth and towel to dry her. He lovingly ministered to her needs, leaving her dewey and exhausted after their tete a tete.

She fell asleep, dreaming she was in a field sitting peacefully against a large rock that bore interesting ochre artwork. Before Lizzy could discern it, she heard animalistic sparring sounds, scrabbling and crashing. Looking around the boulder, she saw rams engaged in their ritualistic duel.

In all her years around animals, she'd never seen such an event before. It was frightening, primal. At one point the rams had retreated which was unusual for them to do when engaged in such an act. She looked on in horror as her father and Lydon had ambled into the field to the spot where the rams had previously been, and were again charging. She closed her eyes for a moment, hearing a crash and then nothing.

She opened her eyes to nothing but the field. Every other creature had disappeared. She ran to the middle of the field to see what had become of them all. In the place of their sparring, she found a pile of antique jewelry in various and sundry forms. When she went to touch it, the jewels were transformed into small, sweetly chirping golden birds that flew in a million directions. Lizzy awoke with a start.

Darcy was lounged next to her, laptop perched on his thighs, typing. She peeked, and, grasped the similarities Darcy drew between Lydon and his own dear brother Jorge. Lizzy wondered how long it had been since she'd gone to such effort to show her little brother the same support as she'd shown Jane or her other sisters for that matter. It became clear she'd been escaping from conflict- with Darcy and her family. The only way to rectify this was to engage more in the 'messiness' as Darcy put it.

Talk was inevitably curtailed. Surreptitiously ogling the way her breasts so nicely filled out his bedclothes, Darcy suggested they take a bath. Lizzy had no opposition to the activity. Their mutual washing and drying turned into caresses and kisses. Bodies soon melded together and they found themselves on Darcy's bed, Lizzy riding him as both found wondrous release. Afterward, Darcy and Lizzy slowly dressed, admiring each other in the mirror while getting ready.

Lizzy and Jane located their seats with Bingley and Darcy near the stage. The sisters had already given their family tickets to this show, having also invited them to Bingley's opening night party afterward. Everyone involved in the production was busy at least going back stage, bidding the players to break a leg.

Lizzy and Jane couldn't help but notice their family across the audience. They had unfortunately distinguished themselves in the crowd with abominable theatre etiquette.

She and Jane cringed as Dex, the resident playwright who was in front of them, turned around and looked daggers at the family. Others in the theatre were looking at them and whispering, some snickering when one of her family said or did something particularly embarrassing. This did not deter them. In fact Francesca was gesturing and speaking quickly to Lydon, clearly referring though her looks and gestures to Dex. Lizzy was afraid Dex was going to have them kicked out and moved to get up to warn them. She didn't need to: their activity calmed down when Wickham showed just before lights out.

She noticed Darcy bore an unreadable expression but was staring intently at Wickham. She had to nudge him out of the reverie. He shook himself, gazed down at her and took her hand, distractedly.

Their displays created in Lizzy a thousand uncomfortable realizations about her family and its impact on her work and relationships. They rarely attended her artistic endeavors. Now their behavior sabotaged her efforts to cultivate a career in her chosen field. Fear of her peers judgment marred this night, a night that should be triumphant evidence of her success.

She was constrained to go through the motions of celebrating. She had to see the Show to the end, if for no other reason than, it must go on.

* * *

Everybody's coming, leave your body and soul at the door

He had imbibed a little too much. He invited more than the theatrical crowd and their families and friends to the Netherfield opening night- he went so far as to invite colleagues from Santa Fe who were known to Caroline, Darcy and himself. In doing so, Charles exposed himself to a litany of questions about the work in his studio, the subject matter he had chosen, and just WHEN the world would have a chance to see his work.

He did his best to avoid their questions and return to his angel's side. He'd tried to answer his colleagues questions as briefly as possible. It gratified him that others were in such anticipation, but he was a man of his word. He had told her, after all, that the work wasn't going to be on display. But her work was just beyond that locked door, and the party was big, and what if someone got in? There were a lot of people interested in his big secret. Surely none of them would be that nosy? He wasn't that big, was he?

Caroline had taken the party over, enthusing about her plans to show this small town some culture and impress their friends from up north. Charles had been too busy to care up until that night. He and Caroline had finally discussed her hostessing and she huffed indignantly when he forbade her to show anyone his new work. Of course she wouldn't ever violate his agreements, she was a professional!

His sister stayed in that snit only until her first friend from Santa Fe arrived, then she was all graciousness. Charles hadn't missed it when she offered to show the friend their studios and Caro shot her brother a withering look while taking them to see hers, explaining with her characteristic charm that the men had their secrets.

Charles also discussed his concerns with Darcy earlier in the day, and he also had locked the door on his studio before the first guest arrived. Darcy remonstrated Charles on his lack of contract with Jane, which at least would have saved some worry over accidental viewings. Charles hated getting 'that look' from his friend. He wondered if Darcy was going to do that rescuer thing he hated. If so, he and Lizzy, and possibly a few other people would be in for a long night.

Adding to Charles's discomfort, Jane's family was also present. He hoped that no one was so nosy in that family as to try and get into the locked rooms that were so clearly private. At least they were in an entirely other area of the party that had a country western band set up. They still managed to embarrass her in some manner and she was quite consumed with containing them.

Charles secretly welcomed the distraction and hoped it would contain the Bennets. He was disappointed during the course of the evening, to find it did not. He could weather their effect on his career once it came out that Jane Bennet was with him. After all, her and Lizzy's behavior, even Mary's, was beyond reproach. Besides, he knew enough of many of their exploits to understand they would be hypocrites to be too judgmental. Now, if he could just keep everyone out of his studio. Maybe he should have hired a security guard to keep people out.

At some point during the party, Caro's new boyfriend Mike _ was milling about, enjoying the superb food, drink and company, even if he was momentarily left on his own while Caro showed yet another possible patron her newest work. He never tired of her, or the other company, but she needed her space to make the sale, so she left her to it.

He was pleasantly surprised when the photographer from earlier approached asking for some help. He couldn't get into one of the spaces he was supposed to photograph and wondered if Mike could help. Mike eagerly obliged with his copy of a key Caro had given him. He didn't think to tell Caro, Charles or anyone else, he was just being helpful in the usual way, after all.

NMxoxPPPxoxNMxoxPPPxoxNMxoxPPP

Darcy excused himself from Lizzy innumerable times with no good reason other than to talk to some friend or other, without bringing Elizabeth along.

She wove through the crowd to keep up with Darcy who had joined Caroline and her boyfriend. Elizabeth caught up with them, but the walk way was narrow enough that it only admitted enough room for 3. Darcy seemed unnoticing of the fact that he'd left Elizabeth behind as they talked at length about specific artists, openings and works of which Elizabeth had no acquaintance. They located their Santa Fe friends and conversation continued in the same manner.

She tried to join in a few times. Some at least recognized her. A few, after understanding who she was and the connection to the show, gave their compliments. Elizabeth tried to participate in discussions, relating her experiences from Lambton and Longborn, but found her conversational partners seemed to struggle with her meaning.

 _This must be some semblance of what my mother feels when she goes to dad's dreadful university events. And she must be at even more of a loss in such a place as the theatre. No wonder she is so anxiously fixated on being a mistress in the area she knows and at which she so excels. In that light no one could fault her._

Lizzy swore she would be different. She straightened her posture, took a deep breath, and again forged ahead, having lost sight of him again. Still, Darcy paying all his attention to his Santa Fe crowd with their insipid talk of the scene. Elizabeth wondered if this was the truth of him, more about the scene than what is meant in the work itself.

She stood on the outskirts of the crowd in this part of the party, noticing bored, snobby Ivy League types mixing with wealthy new age hippies, distinguished faculty, and a few true eccentrics. Maeve, for example, was the center of a party off to the side. Of course that crowd had more eccentrics than anything. Had Lizzy been of the right mind, she would have joined her mentor. Or at least the party would have been interesting studies in personal style.

Instead, consumed in self consciousness, Lizzy looked down to her outfit. It was a lovely 30's lace gown that had been embellished with various swathes of chiffon because Lizzy had once torn the gossamer overdress. Her look, complete with moon and star accents, was an ode to Hedy Lamarr. The effect of her work was breathtaking but all Lizzy saw were her amateurish efforts in the face of people wearing bespoke tailored suits, boutique pieces and vintage couture.

She also couldn't help listening in to bits and pieces of conversation held by some of the snobs nearby.

"Can you believe those peoples' behavior tonight at the theatre? Just what I'd expect in Dona Maria. The south is so uncultured. A bunch of ignorant farmers and ranchers who watch Fox News." One sniffed.

Lizzy rolled her eyes and moved on. She unfortunately saw and heard more than one person comment on her family's behavior. Lizzy resolved to allow their future disinterest and wished she'd not insisted in their attending. It couldn't be undone now, but she assumed that there were far worse behaviors than rude theatre behavior. Wasn't there? Isn't that the stereotype for artists? She moved further through the crowd.

Another gossiped "What can he mean by being so intimidating, threatening us with legal action if we look in the studio? It makes me want to look inside. You know, both Bingley and Darcy have their fair share of models. I wonder if we'll find something enticing. Caroline is a sly thing, she hints one of them is here tonight, I wonder who it is?" She could't un listen, the words couldn't be unsaid and now her spirit was rolling inexorably down like boulders tumbling over a cliff, and she was trying desperately to stop the avalanche.

NMxoxPPPxoxNM

Lizzy determinedly fought her way through the bodies ducking and peering through to clearings, then seeking her goal, an ever moving target. His eyes swept over the crowds and more than once landed on her. Still he was on the move searching for someone, and that person was obviously not her. He was truly avoiding her.

She didn't care. Desperation and anger warred within her breast as her legs insisted on continuing towards their goal. Once arriving before him, Darcy finally held his pace as he towered over her, drinking her in with an intensity of expression that was yet mysterious for what it conveyed.

She hadn't known what she intended in her quest to be of notice. And so, the urge to call him out fled as Lizzy realized that she didn't want to appear, didn't want to be, insecure in public. She would have to confront him about his interference later, away from the crowd. To do so here, now, would prove to people here that she truly didn't belong here, didn't belong with him.

Instead she inquired if he wanted to go to where there was music so they could dance. Darcy tucked his head thoughtfully. "No, but I appreciate your effort coming all this way to ask. I have some urgent business. I will see you later?"

She looked at him incredulously, but still lacked the courage to confront him on what could account for such a material change from this afternoon. "I'm afraid this can't wait."

He searched her eyes. He then scanned the crowd, as if to look around to see if his horde of followers needed anything. At least that is how it looked to Lizzy. If she weren't so afraid of her pictures being revealed, she'd have stormed off, but as it was "… Very well."

He pulled her to the area where the studios were, around them people buzzed but Darcy had a skill with looking intensely forbidding when he chose and so the crowd seemed to shrink away from them. He kept his voice measured but she could tell he was testy. "What can I do for you?"

"I overheard someone who was too curious about your and Charles's studios, hoping to find pictures with models."She spat out the last word.

His eyes widened momentarily and grabbed her shoulders trying to reassure her, "You needn't worry. I am taking care of that as we speak. Let me worry about that. What I said the first night wasn't just a silly song quote. This night is supposed to be your night. Enjoy yourself."

Her eyes grew hard. Either he didn't notice or didn't care. "Of course. I am quite busy with everyone is in a rush to congratulate me."

"Well, there you have it. I would not suspend any happiness due to you in the form of well deserved praise for your talented hard work". Darcy looked up, noticing something. There were so many people milling about that Lizzy couldn't tell where he was looking.

She shook her head. "Yes, I will certainly enjoy myself."

"You and Jane have nothing to worry about." She tensed. What did Jane have to do with any of this? She was about to ask him about what Caroline knew, about the 'Jane' comment, when he pecked her on the cheek and slipped away in pursuit of someone.

* * *

Conversation 16

Elizabeth located Maya after Darcy left. Her friend's buoyant personality enabled her to be a little more celebratory. Lizzy had to laugh or else she might very well cry. It should be no matter tonight. It should be a night of triumph. It was, sort of. Not exactly.

She had to admit that a good many people that night, in fact, had congratulated her success- from Dr. Lucas, to every last member of the theatre faculty- even the grudging musical theater holdouts.

Her mother persisted in making comments that clearly showed her lack of understanding. "But why must those women wear such high waisted dresses! It's so unflattering! Well, it wasn't Lizzy's fault, you know what they say about a pig in lipstick."

No, Lizzy wasn't entirely sure what her mother meant. She was too furious to ask.

Maya had correctly pointed out yet again her mother's resemblance to Nathan Lane in the Birdcage- complete with her inane comments. Maya tried to help her see the humor in it but Lizzy was too hurt that her mother couldn't, even this one time, congratulate her on her success.

Maya and Lizzy soon after succeeded in sampling every last canape from the abundance of catering trays, becoming quite tipsy from the endless supply of strong and tasty cocktails. The friends' attention turned to a band playing in one corner of the estate, a fun sort of Velvet Underground-y garage-y affair. They were exceedingly amusing to Lizzy's current state of celebratory delirium. Plus the singer was flirting with her and Maya.

This was a little gratifying as she felt more than a little neglected by the minimally attentive Darcy. He still seemed more occupied with chatting up his Santa Fe buddies and kept looking furtively around yet not noticing her.

She had been secretly hoping that they would spend their night together in the manner as they had earlier. She hoped whatever 'business' he had would be finished in short order, so at least the rest of the night would be saved. The party had been going on for a couple of hours and he was still otherwise engaged. She found it hard to believe this was about keeping snooping people away from his studio. What was so top secret, anyway?

Suddenly, Darcy deigned to notice when Lizzy and Maya were sharing a laugh with 'Lou Reed'. Darcy appeared quite put off by the joke. She had never seen a rock star act so intimidated before. But Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome could certainly look stormy and unapproachable-nay, threatening- when he wanted to.

Maya took the hint and high tailed it, under the guise of asking 'Lou Reed' if he would dance with her when the DJ took over. He was playing that certain song from their first joining.

xoxNMxoxPPP

Lizzy would not be intimidated by his stares nor the song which referenced their auspicious meeting. "Fitz, I believe it is customary to have some intercourse." She wasn't flirting so much as attempting to provoke.

"I can't tell you how much I've been anticipating the… anticipation of our… intercourse," he stuttered, "How do you propose we begin?"

"First I shall discuss the weather- My but it is unseasonably hot, don't you think?" She took off her exquisite hand crocheted shawl to display a well fitting ensemble that left little to the imagination. If the look in his eyes was any indication, Darcy had a good imagination, if not a good memory…

"You are suitably attired of such fine weather, but I have little choice". He gestured to himself. "Shirtsleeves and slacks- nothing else for me to take off. For the moment I'm at a disadvantage but I admit I rather like it. You put me quite in danger of losing my focus."

His head was moving towards hers when it jerked up and she could see him following something in the direction of Charles's studio. Changing his tone and stepping back as he danced, he asked, "Enough about the weather, have you read any good books lately?" He said while half looking at her, and half in the other direction.

Lizzy reached her limit with this odd behavior. "Books? You know me to be an avid reader but do I LOOK interested in BOOKS at the moment? Do I look dressed for a date with the LIBRARY?" Her ire increased in direct proportion with the tone and volume of her voice. Abruptly halting, eyes filling with tears, she escaped through the crowd, leaving Darcy holding her shawl.

He'd clearly bungled things yet again. Damn if there wasn't far too much activity to keep track of. She sought a dark corner where people wouldn't notice her. She stood back against the patio wall where some revelers were enjoying Karaoke. Tired of holding back the questions, her mind turned over and over.

How did he categorize their-whatever? How did she? Were they a couple? Were they dating? She didn't think they were merely f-buddies after what he had said to her. And he continued to show her consideration when they were together- as little as that had been.

But tonight surely he had no excuse, not after today.

She wasn't 'making stories' as Darcy would put it, she just had to know what he was about. He demanded there be 'no drama'; refusing to talk. What a hypocrite! If he were the one who was 'on bottom' so to speak, she doubted he would take such reticence sedately. That was it. He demanded she play by his rules and she had. The realization was like a punch in the gut. She'd really tried to change for him.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPPxoxNMxoxPPP

Struggling to gather more thoughts, Lizzy became distracted by the exceedingly odd behavior of her brother.

Lydon was with a group singing Karaoke, louder than usual, and his language was exceedingly foul, to the point of being bizarre. He was in the middle of some of her flamboyant theatre friends, obviously flirting with the men, which would have been fine except that Lydon was 17 and them men, Lizzy knew ranged in age from 23- 30, some older.

Instead of the usual cowboy gear or jeans, he had makeup on and his twill slacks were belted with someone's scarf and tucked into his boots, looking like a young shirtless Adam Ant. Lizzy had the misfortune of witnessing her father walk up to the group just as Lydon kissed one of the men while they were performing a Morrissey tune.

"Well, well, playing the Captain Jack Sparrow part to a tee, I'd say," her father quipped. He hadn't even seemed concerned that his 16 year old son was acting strangely and flirting with older men. Instead, her father just walked off.

She saw that Darcy had come upon the scene, to witnessing Mr. Bennet's quip, staying for the rest, until Lydon pranced back to his friends. He seemed to not even realize Lizzy was in the background. All Darcy seemed to see were details that, to fortunate people, appeared innocuous. Lizzy then watched in shock as Darcy started yelling, and breaking things. People stalked off. Some cast furtive glances and seemed to disgustedly leave the party altogether.

These were students she worked with, who were fun and interesting sorts although they had been acquaintances with whom she'd spent only a little time outside the theatre, usually when the production ended up at The Club or El Patio*. Lizzy shrunk back a little, trying to decide what to do now, as Darcy cornered Lydon and proceeded to lecture him. She could only hear snippets about 'dangerous behavior', 'crazy' and 'family' while Lydon sulked and messed with his I phone.

She was taken aback when Wickham appeared out of nowhere, taking Lydon's side, making comments about how Darcy thought himself better than small town rednecks; how he interfered with things that weren't his business. What was worse, he accused Darcy of hating his own brother and himself for being gay, and he hated Lydon for the same reason.

Darcy took Wickham by his collar and quietly growled something to his old 'friend'. Lizzy only saw Wickham's bravado disappear with Darcy's unheard threat. Lydon grew even more sulky and grudgingly followed Darcy. Lizzy couldn't account for Darcy's contradictory behavior. He had, just this afternoon, agreed with Jane's perspective about letting people work things out themselves.

Lizzy followed them, trying to make sense of the situation, keeping a distance. Why didn't she interfere? She couldn't have answered why.

Lydon in tow, Darcy searched for, and quickly found, Mr. Bennet. They spoke in low voices and then her father turned around and called his wife over. She launched into an hysterical tirade, gesticulating and occasionally punctuating whatever she was saying by hitting Lydon with her purse. Then, they all got in Mr. Bennet's SUV.

xoxPPPxoxNMxoxPPPxoxNM

Darcy stood there, checking his phone and sending some messages, then looked around and went in the house. Lizzy decided that she had enough and started digging through her purse to get her keys. She had them in hand when she heard:

"There you are. NOW we can finally be together. I'm looking forward to getting you back in my room and showing you just how happy I am about that prospect. Oh, and we're going to Santa Fe tomorrow with your parents and Lydon. And, I have to talk to Bingley and Jane about his work before we go in the morning, so we can't be up too late, if you know what I mean." Suddenly Darcy was before her, his hand on her shoulder.

She moved away. "No, I DON'T know what you mean. I don't know what any of it means."

He bent down, soothing, "Well don't worry about that now, we'll have plenty of time to discuss it tomorrow. I'm done talking. Less talking, more kissing. And definitely less clothing."

She backed away, raising her voice, "Aaaand, you think I'm going to fuck you in what universe? Because the Lizzy who you neglected all night, who you didn't see fit to introduce to your snobby artist friends, didn't even see fit to walk with, who was just in a rage 5 minutes ago with my brother? The same Lizzy who you neglected to explain about people who might be curious about certain pictures? Oh yeah, AGAIN without seeing FIT to let ME know what was going on. Then, one of your oldest friends shows up and says how you hate gay people and disapprove of my family. And you aren't in a mood to talk? And you expect me to fuck?"

He looked at her, clearly stunned, "Well, unlike you, I try not to assume anything, But, I had hoped we could be together, after I took care of everything. Trust me, you don't need to ruin your night thinking about it."

She held her purse like a shield against her breast. "No, I don't, because you've already ruined it for me. And from what I understand, you're trying to do the same for Jane and Bingley."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, "I was trying to take care of your family and this is the thanks I get? No, you ruined it for yourself by your presumptions. I never pegged you for a diva but I gotta hand it to you, princess, you really think your delusional world revolves around your precious head right about now."

She put her hands on her hips, "Really Han Solo? And you think you can just swagger in and rescue me by acting like a jackass to me, my family, and friends, then expect me to go 'oh, my hero!' for whatever the hell you supposedly did that I don't even know about?"

He held his hands out in surrender, "It's not like that."

"Then what is it like? Tell me." She hissed.

"FINE!" He bellowed. "I didn't want to talk anymore, I was ready to spend time with you, but since you can't trust me to LET IT WAIT, I'll tell you: I was trying to find Bingley to make sure he knew people were in his studio, in case his work with Jane was out.

In the middle of that, I found Lydon smoking spice with those actors, and then he ignored me while I was trying talk to him. Apparently he texted that cur who has wormed his way into your family. Wickham showed up, ostensibly to take Lydon somewhere, probably to do something that they shouldn't be doing. I threatened Wickham and he left, then I told your parents that their son was doing drugs.

It wasn't about you. You aren't his mother or father and they needed to know. We were supposed to go to Santa Fe tomorrow, because I suggested it would be a good place for Lydon to spend a couple of weeks and get straightened out, away from that man who is a horrible influence."

Abashed at her own assumptions, guilt arose. "I appreciate what you did, you were a bit officious, not talking to me about it. I didn't get to make choices myself. You made them for me. My family needs me now; I think I need to go." The pain was too raw for any further discussion.

She didn't even say goodbye to Jane or Maya. Taking her things, Lizzy drove home, finding her parents and brother already asleep. She wrote a note asking them to wake her up in the morning so she could go with them, then collapsed into bed, clothes, makeup and all.

* * *

Well? comments are so very welcome!


	16. Chapter 16

Hello everyone. So very sorry for the over 3 week delay. We got a darling puppy and have been quite consumed, and then the holidays hit, and a certain movie beckoned. You know how it is.

This is just an impromptu intermission of sorts, headjumping into ODB.

It is completely unbetaed. 

I am attempting here to answer (or just add to questions about) the last post.

People were confused about what happened so I am getting into Darcy's head here, the day after, to explain what he was up to.

I hope it makes sense.

Now that we are getting puppy on a routine, I imagine I will be able to post at least 1-2 more times in the next 6 days.

Hope that helps!

Without further ado:

* * *

Cloudbusting

His head hurt like hell. No, it wasn't the party last night. It wasn't even the fight,or the stress of a night spent preparing to go to Santa Fe in a rush, waiting by the phone for the Bennets to call and say they are ready, only to be texted in the mid morning to be told it was called off.

Sure that was a pain, but not even that was enough to cause the terrible pain. No.

He was getting one of those migraines. He hated them.

The pain was nothing. It was the vision that accompanied them. Not the auras. The nonsensical visions. Or worse, the visions that made too much sense and filled him with dread. He didn't like knowing things. Even good things. It was like the Zen koan made famous by that movie. Just because the event appeared to be 'good', it didn't mean the larger picture was.

Like that time he had a vision of his brother telling him he was in love. He was so excited for his brother, until he found out with whom, and the heartbreak, loss and recovery that followed.

So when he saw the vision of his Beloved and himself embraced at Rosings Spa, well, as the Zen koan goes: We'll see.

When she texted him that the trip was called off, she also told him she needed to stay at home all weekend. He was diappointed but he understood. They were probably trying to figure out what to do with Lydon. He could relate to the guilt of being too far away during production, only to be met with some family emergency or other after opening night.

Sure, he had hoped they could have lunch today, and talk about the future. He had plans. Big plans. She'd love it. But they could wait.

They waited the evening, when he was trying to save everyone but himself. Save every Bennet but his own. He knew she'd love the surprise, and that when she found out all about it, she would probably kick herself for being so short tempered last night.

He wasn't ignoring her. G-ds it was all he could do not to pull her upstairs and shove that Hedy Lamar dress up her thighs and pound her until they were both senseless. He was disappointed when she misunderstood his lack of attention to her, but it was no matter. He made sure she understood that he was just concerned for her family. He could tell how abashed she was after she realized what he had done. He told her parents about Lydon's drug use and kept the nosy journalists out of the forbidden spaces of his and Charles's studios, thus preventing some photograph to go out of either Bennet sister's portrait. That had meant a lot of running around, hobnobbing with patrons, pretentious wanabes, true visionaries and everything in between while keeping one eye on the studios and another on Lizzy.

Dammit.

How had it all gone wrong? Why did he care so much?

He was still worried. What were the Bennets going to do about Lydon? He knew that Wickham already had his claws in. The rodeo king had turned into Jack Sparrow crossed with Dr Franekfurter last night after he smoked that spice. He had no problems with gender fluidity. It was the substance involved. And the waaay older men who used hard drugs. Well, if the Bennets didn't want his help, so be it. He wouldn't sit by and watch this happen again. He would keep his distance until the time was right, and then offer his help, yet again. He knew it wasn't any good to try any more. It would only alienate the lot of them. Probably even his Lizzy.

And then there was the matter of how insupportable her family's treatment was of Lizzy, and even Jane. He would not abide it. Couldn't. He had planned to have a get together - Catalina, Anna, Jorge, Richard and his parents meeting the Bennet clan. But, after last night? No. It was settled. He'd take Lizzy to New York. She needed to get away. Needed nurturing.

All this rumination was exhausting. He hadn't slept well last night and so uncharacteristically, Darcy unearthed his sleeping mask and crawled into bed, mid day. He was crashed out until about noon the next morning.

He dreamed of thundering skies, the heavens resounding with the crash of rams' horns and the fluttering down of golden fleece into his palms only to dissipate into a caterpillar that tickled his fingers before scurrying away. He heard his mother's voice saying "The butterfly goes where she is meant to go. Her transformation is before you. All will be well. "

He awoke refreshed and re energized with his mission for his Beloved. He knew this was the sign he needed.

He spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for the week. Darcy highly anticipated seeing Her again and telling her the news. He texted her and was a little worried she didn't respond but had said as much in the initial text- that she would likely be incommunicado all weekend. Well, he wanted to send a clear sign from the moment she set eyes on him. He would wear Her lovely, ratty old Mission tee shirt to propose to her. It communicated his affection, symbolized that night they spent entwined without doing anything more. The perfect icing on the cake. He would go see her first thing in the morning before classes started.

He had no idea this would be only his first mistake of several.

He meant well enough.

He had been so certain of his vision.

Well, We'll see.

* * *

Tada!

or not.

Depending on whether that stands up or is just thoroughly confusing.

Anyhoo,

here is the you tube link to just a portion of the Zen Koan. I believe Thomas Moore tells it much better, but this movie made it famous, from what I hear.

www dot youtube dot com /watch?v=Tbsx_vZTcNI


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you to all my readers who have waited patiently for this next installment!

I changed chapter 15 just a tad based on a review. Thanks for the input about the patina :) I think I just like writing the word. I should have realized when I wrote it but it slipped by me. patina patina patina. There. I got that out of my system. Maybe ;)

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

blue couch warning is still up

* * *

Tranquilize

Lizzy didn't drag herself out of bed until 11:00 the next morning, which she found curious. She wandered through the house, then, looking outside, saw that both her parent's cars were still in the drive. Lizzy located them at the corral, watching Lydon muck out the horse stalls and lecturing him. She ventured "I thought we-"

Her father, in rare form interrupted, "Well, Lizzy, it seems Lydon refuses to go to Santa Fe. He insists this was just one time, and had Wickham been there, he would have known those cigarettes weren't cloves…"

Her mother then interrupted him, "and he would never have been fooled by those wild actor friends of yours. I just knew it was a mistake for you to be in that place instead of being a Home Ec major. It's the last time I'll set foot in there, that's what I say."

Lizzy pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mama, those people weren't my friends."

Her mother wasn't finished, "You work with those people, spending more time with them than you do with your own family, I daresay. Wickham has told me more than enough about the theatre and art people you associate with. Nothing good can come of it, I assure you. If you return to that place, I'm sure I shall never speak to you. And you can find some other way to pay your expenses the rest of the way in school."

Lizzy looked to her father, "Daddy, surely you can see reason."

He crossed his arms, "Well Lizzy, it seems you have a dilemma before you. If you don't leave Theatre, your mother will never speak to you and will refuse to pay your expenses. If you do, your Daddy will never speak to you and will refuse to pay your expenses. What will it be?"

She looked at her mother in supplication, "I can't abandon the Theatre, I love my school and I'm proud of what I do."

"Just so." Her father nodded in approval. "Don't you worry about your poor parents and your miserable brother. We'll take care of him. We will thank your friend for his services but they aren't needed. You see, your friend made a bigger deal of things than they really are. It will sort itself out, and with little trouble Mr. Darcy, myself or anyone else but Lydon. You'll see."

Lizzy was reluctant to believe the matter of Lydon done with so little trouble to her family. She was utterly spent, regardless, and not a little thankful that she apparently wouldn't be going to Santa Fe. She texted Darcy as much, and promptly turned off her phone then crawled back into bed. The next 2 days found mostly in pajamas, in bed, having a weekend lie-in. She couldn't face any of it. Not Darcy, not Lydon. Jane was at Netherfield.

Lizzy didn't have the energy to keep up with her family or the others. She hadn't slept or rested in so long and decided to watch via streaming any period drama involving strong female leads. She found particular escape in a witty flapper lady detective, and not a little style inspiration from her doctor friend.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPPxoxNMxoxPPP

Monday after opening night Lizzy was determined to get back into the routine and woke up before dawn. With a few days to clear her head Lizzy had found that things about Darcy didn't add up- about Lydon, as well as his history with Wickham. She was feeling a sense of foreboding about the subject, yet also had been missing Darcy. Having his arms around her would be such a reassurance to her doubts.

She decided to go for a ride when Lydon and Wickham rode up in Lydon's beat up old Ford. Lydon went inside the house to get school books, leaving Wickham to his own devices. Lizzy's back was to the doorway of the barn, she was listening to the Cowboy Junkies station, totally absorbed in saddling Eos. Suddenly she was embraced from behind and Lizzy melted into the embrace she'd been anticipating. Seconds passed until she realized this man's scent, technique, and feel were different. Turning around, realizing her mistake she cried out. "Wickham! What the hell!?" Lizzy's face was hot with anger.

Wickham just grinned, "I liked your initial response better! Did you think I was someone else?"

Lizzy was exploding at his lack of propriety. "GET OUT!" Wickham merely laughed. Deciding to give him a dose of his own medicine, Lizzy mounted Eos, who had been fidgeting about nervously. She urged the stallion on, and he lurched forward in an agitated gait.

Wickham had no choice but to back against the wall to avoid being trampled. "Hey, I was just joking around. You know I'm actually interested in another Bennet!"

She took the horse in a cantering circle around the orchard, doubling back after about 5 minutes. She had not seen Darcy's Mercedes parked under the carport. Lizzy decided to go back into the barn after she saw Lydon and Wickham leave. As she entered, Lizzy noticed the Mercedes and dismounted, tying Eos to a post and looking for Darcy. Her nerves were raw with anticipation. Even though she didn't intentionally embrace another man, she felt guilty that it was initially as pleasurable as Darcy's embrace. Darcy and her father looked upon Lizzy with unreadable expressions.

Lizzy hoped her own countenance was equally inscrutable as she took in Darcy's ensemble. He was wearing worn classic Levi's and some worn Justins, a smart tweed vest and blazer and a thick modern Indian made sterling cuff and dangling from the vest an antique pocketwatch. But, instantly, she noticed something else: Darcy was wearing her old T Shirt under his vest/ blazer, the distinctive paint spatter peeking from under the vest.

Elizabeth had not witnessed their earlier conversation:

"I like that old tee shirt you were wearing. I wish Francesca were here to see it. Good to know people patronize our Goodwill." With every syllable, Darcy's blush grew deeper and Edward was enjoying himself more and more." I haven't gotten a chance yet to thank Lizzy for finally respecting her mother's nerves and getting rid of the thing."

"Yes," Darcy managed to rasp out, weakly, his eyes glued to the floor. He took a deep breath and decided he had to come clean. He needed an ally- he also decided in this case that he shouldn't adopt the first name basis they'd used when they were drinking buddies. "Mr. Bennet, I-uh- borrowed it from Lizzy. I like your daughter-very, very much. I hope to be able to- get to know her better and better- for a- long time to come. I have been –careful, discreet, and- not prodigious in my-uh- friendships. She's my only…friend."

"That's good to know, because really, one doesn't need too many - it looks tacky. That goes for both old concert shirts, AND…friends as you call them."

Darcy nodded, "We understand each other, sir."

"I hope we do!" He looked Darcy squarely in the eye. Darcy did not mistake the hint of humor in his otherwise steely glint.

Instead, Lizzy walked in moments too late and was greeted thusly:

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth, I was hoping to see you this morning, but I have to be on my way now or I'll be late. Let's get coffee later today?"

Lizzy muttered something in the affirmative, blushing. Darcy smiled ever so slightly and said his goodbyes.

She looked at her father and suspected this to be the reason for his looks. She wondered how long Darcy had been there and if by some horrible chance he had seen Wickham, fearing even worse, that Darcy saw the embrace at the most inopportune time.

"My dear, you quite surprise me," he said mildly. "It appears that you have secured the affections of two gentlemen in a very short time span. Tell me, just what are their intentions, and yours? I never suspected my Lizzy to be the sort who 'hooked up' as my students say."

"Daddy!" Needing to distract from the conversation, Lizzy started doing dishes, making sure to be as noisy as possible to fend off any more of her dad's conversation. He had given up talking but kept his 'ground', insisting upon reading his paper at the kitchen table, an unusual place for him to read, Lizzy felt uncomfortably watched. As she vigorously washed and washed a single plate, she finally muttered, "Wickham came up behind me. I thought he was Darcy. When I found out, I yelled at him and he just laughed. So, I got on the horse and scared Wickham. When I was sure he was gone, I was about to come inside anyway, and I see Darcy's car there. He didn't see, I take it?"

He looked back down, resuming the paper he'd previously been reading. "No, I had gone to find you. He was in the kitchen and we had been visiting when I presume Wickham and Lydon pulled up. That Wickham is a real jokester. I'm sure you taught him a lesson."

"I think maybe you should reinforce the lesson," she said, through grit teeth, as she continued to wash the unsuspecting plate. She finally realized it was clean and worked her way through the rest.

After several minutes, Lizzy's phone rang. It was Maya. "Where are you?"

"At home, of course! Class isn't till 850!" Lizzy answered.

Maya urged, "Well, come in to class early. You won't believe it but a certain man is sub-ing in 19th century Art History! You can ogle him while we go over our test flash cards! Rumor has it he's also here to jury the student show and will select guest artists who will go to the Studio in Santa Fe."

"Do you know his name?" Lizzy asked.

"Didn't you figure it out yet? It's that hottie Darcy- the one you swore you hated but you followed him around and he was ogling and flirting with you Friday night. Hey! Wait a minute, he's the same one you complained about to me- that scenic artist…." Maya's voice changed in recognition

"Fuck! "Lizzy shouted.

Her father looked at her over his spectacles, "Lizzy! Language!"

She blushed, "Sorry."

* * *

Don't Stand So Close To Me

Lizzy wondered if her morning could get even more mortifying. At least her exclamation seemed to halt Maya's speculations- for now. "Uh, I cant come in early. I just realized I forgot to uh feed the goats."

"I have never known you to curse so soundly over having to feed goats. Come to think of it, I can't remember you last feeding goats!" Maya teased. "Alright, have it your way. I'll get Teacher to myself." Lizzy hung up, racing around getting ready for class.

"You don't have to feed the goats! ?" Her father asked. He shook his head, folded his paper, and began preparations to leave for his own day at the university.

Lizzy finished getting ready and found she had time on her hands which sent her into a fit of pacing, and flitting about, attempting to pass the time. She almost looked like her mother. The clock surely ran in slow motion as she contemplated the situation. Her relationship with this man was becoming more and more convoluted. How could she go on a date with the man who was going to be grading her term papers and viewing her piece – supposedly in an unbiased manner- for the juried exhibit?

She would NEVER sleep around to further her work. Even if the relationship came before her work, she wouldn't allow it to stay that way. Darcy was altogether too much of a mystery to fathom sacrificing a class or a scholarship for. Darcy had to be the one to go. Tears of frustration and loss welled up and Lizzy gave in for a few moments.

Determined to change her appearance Lizzy dried her tears and applied her makeup. She avoided wearing her usual sensual combinations inspired by women in history. Instead she put on wide-legged tweed slacks, some natty brogues, a patterned wool vest with a plum wool trench and long paisley scarf. To appear less recognizable she pinned her hair in fingerwaves and donned a fedora, removing her contacts in favor of horn rimmed glasses. Lizzy gathered her supplies and was on her way.

"You look like Truman Capote!" was the exclamation with which Maya greeted Lizzy's arrival in the classroom. Maya cleared the space she was saving for Lizzy, who plopped down, taking out books, paper and pens for the lecture.

"I was thinking the great Darcy would be gay and would notice me this way," Lizzy dryly kidded.

"Well if you looked like Morrissey, at least you'd look more cheerful." Maya replied.

"Huh. Not that anything would really help." Lizzy said, under her breath. "Couldn't you have picked a spot in the back so we could slip out or fall asleep if he's boring?"

"Wow, you're in a mood! I know you don't like having to do all the chores outside, but goats cannot be the reason for this. Do you have an attack of the nerves like your mom?" Maya was twirling her pencil as she sat, waiting for the class to start.

"I guess" Lizzy said, her voice small. "I need to go outside for a minute."Lizzy ran to the restroom and stood at the sink, shaking. She turned on the warm water, letting it run over her hands. This always relaxed her. Breathing slowly, Lizzy rubbed her hands under the warmth for several seconds then dried them. Checking her makeup, she reapplied her berry lip stain and blotted the corners of her eyes. She rearranged her fedora and hairpins, pulled off her trench, took another breath and stepped into the hallway.

Soon voices could be heard in the adjacent gallery. "I see where the artist was going with the piece but it's a technically inept attempt. This is all over the place- it looks like the artist didn't know how to do the stitches. I get that it is a theoretical piece with found objects, but it is inadequately conveyed due to poor craftsmanship. Perhaps this artist would benefit from more rigorous studies of the craft. I would expect as much from someone who is presumably studying to become a professional in this field."

She couldn't hear the question, but Lizzy clearly heard Darcy's answer: "The project was tolerable I suppose but not enough to induce me to return. I'm not generally in the habit of working in poor excuses for schools where 'quote' artists teach and washed up students make 'quote' art. Such places embody their very name- they are the last resort for those who haven't enough talent or discipline in their actual profession. It's not fair to professionals like me or the poor sods who come to you to 'study' while you take their money under false pretenses".

Her heart, already low, felt like it had dropped out of her body. She knew Darcy was talking about the piece she submitted. 'Mourning Veil' and was a veil piece crocheted together with other handmade and found objects. She was livid at the criticism Darcy had leveled. The presumption!

She bet he had no idea how to crochet and didn't realize the types of stitches she had used. She had indeed done several studies to get the fiber just right, she had crocheted since the age of 10, she had been given an A on this project by her teacher and it had been widely admired by the rest of the class. It even inspired some classmates to learn the technique. And what about her production work? Her costumes in particular got good reviews in the local papers and the show received a standing ovation opening night! Where Lizzy lacked other evidence in defense of her own talent, she made up for it in defensiveness.

Lizzy shakily held it together, telling herself she was just paying dues, and she had to go to class or she would lose a grade point, telling herself to be strong. And then, without remembering how it happened, Lizzy was sitting next to Maya in class, and Darcy was taking his place in front, preparing the powerpoint for his lecture.

"Lizzy, you're white as a ghost and your hand is shaking! Are you ok?" Maya asked.

"NO. But I can't talk about it." She said in a low voice.

"Cmon. It's ok. Let it out honey." Maya rubbed her back. Lizzy stifled a sob and told Maya what she'd overheard, omitting the part about already knowing Darcy in a biblical sense. "Sweetie, that is the worst. That man is the biggest pompous ass. And he's an old school romantic no less. He totally doesn't get anything made after The Symbolists. I'm so sorry Lizzy. I hate getting bad critiques from a bad critic. (Sigh,) is this what we have to look forward to? Jerks who don't know about our work, criticizing it? Tell me again why we're here?"

Darcy had walked forward and had heard Maya's last question. "In service of Beauty, madam. At least, that is why I'm here. Why are you here, Ms….?"

"Maya. I thought I was paying money to this institution so that I could better refine my skills and have professional opportunities with masters."

Darcy's eyes shifted and focused on Lizzy. His eyes widened in recognition, cleared his throat, shuffled momentarily, then picked up where he left of, focusing on a fixed spot on the back wall. "The Sublime. This is what the Romantics aspired to evoke, and this was what they served. To the Romantics….." Darcy's lecture had begun.

* * *

tell me what you think ...

I'll be back later this weekend!

blue couch warning will continue for a bit.

I don't think the couch is really a deep blue, more like a pastel blue, but that's just me...


	18. Chapter 18

miss me?

warning- Hunsford is upon us

As always, any offers to do further betaing will be considered.

hope things are making sense!

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

* * *

The Means To An End

After the lecture, Darcy took his time gathering notes and slides, hoping Lizzy still planned to have coffee as arranged. His stomach lurched as he saw her hastily depart, not looking back. He worried at the implications of so many events that had transpired in the past days… His success at opening day, his failure at opening night; meeting Mr Bennet unexpectedly while wearing Lizzy's shirt, being unable to tell Lizzy about his unexpected stint in the Art Department, and then to have her give him the cold shoulder. Having her in his arms seemed a need equal to breathing or eating.

So many questions raged within. What was the next step in their relationship now that he was the teacher and she, the student? He knew colleagues who shagged as many coeds as they could but ethics would not allow him to take such a step. Darcy asked himself how he failed to realize he would likely encounter Lizzy in the Art Department as that was in fact her second major.

What kind of man did Lizzy think he was? In order to stay near Lizzy, he had taken this position at the last minute when it had been offered and it had inadvertently put an obstacle in the way. Darcy groaned at the fantasy now impinging on his consciousness involving one of those student desks, Lizzy, and himself. Great, now he was one of _those_ guys.

If that weren't enough, Darcy had to defend his decision to teach. Aunt Catalina called yet again to wheedle him into doing another workshop this fall at Rosings Spa in Sedona*. He wasn't going to bow to her this time. For once, he was putting his own needs first.

Putting unpleasant thoughts out of his mind, Darcy spent the rest of the day consulting with faculty and others who were selected to jury the show, then prepared for the next lecture. All the while, he steeled himself to see her. He kept expecting her around the next corner, in an odd studio, but she had vanished.

Holed up in a guest office for hours, feeling mightily one of his dark moods, he grew more and more desperate for her. He didn't care what he'd have to endure. Darcy was determined to address the herd of elephants in their symbolic room and came up with a strategy to do so.

He found her in their previously agreed upon meeting spot, the Hunsford Coffee Bar in Old Mesilla*. Darcy approached cautiously. "Uh, I came to have coffee with you like we had agreed."

"Yeah, just like we agreed." She growled.

"I'm here because I want to be with you. I want to be together." His head bent down towards hers, speaking in a gentle tone.

Her look was venomous. "How can you possibly think we can be together when we perpetually find ourselves in these compromising situations?"

"I don't mind compromising situations at all," Darcy couldn't help from replying, a devilish expression on his face.

"Of course you don't mind because you're the one with all the power and I'm left with disadvantage." She crossed her arms protectively.

"Well I have a solution. This struggle is too much, it won't do; I love you too much to allow it." When Darcy put his hand on the back of her chair she glared until he removed it.

"Allow it?" It was all she could do to not yell this question.

"I'll quit my substitute position- Bingley will be happy to take it. You don't have to live at home anymore or move back and forth between friends. I'll buy a house in town by the university and we can live there. You can ignore your family all you want when you need to study.

I'll pay off your school loans and you don't have to answer to your parents anymore for help, and you certainly don't need to let your mother blackmail you into being her personal stitcher. With all that spare time not spent on 4-H, I'm sure we will find other things to do."

Elizabeth was left with no need to guess what he meant with the gleam in his eye. She became slightly claustrophobic at his planning.

He didn't see the telling expression and plowed on, "You can let your family do whatever it is they want to do with Lydon's drug problem and I promise to stay out of it, no matter how dysfunctional it is. Even though I'll never like Wickham. You can't expect me to spend time with them when he's around. But, as long as you don't get too messed up in their drama, I'll let you spend time with them."

She sputtered, "Let me?" She hadn't even begun to let loose about his Lydon comment.

Darcy, unhearing, had built momentum."If you don't watch out, you'll get stuck here in this town doing nothing but being a so called working artist and be lucky to sell a blouse at the farmer's market between waitressing shifts or some other job that's beneath you.

With Jane gone, you won't have someone taking care of you anymore. I will do whatever it takes to support your work- find real teachers instead of the makeshift degree you've got. You can do what you want with financial independence- you can quit school and pursue a business or apprentiship. We can move to New York or Paris for you to work your way up in a House if you want. Wherever we go, we can spend lots of time together, away from everyone, making art, making love…. I know you'd love that."

"How lovely." He missed her sarcastic tone and continued.

"Of course, we'll have to spend time with my family. My aunts will think you're adorable. They'll introduce you to all their friends who will want you to make them things. I expect the connections will also further your career, even if there critics have a problem about the way you got your start- you know- unknown country girl meets established artist, gets famous.

I'm sure my family would be willing to put up with the gossip about our family. Lord knows we've suffered worse from Wickham spreading rumors. Besides, having the Darcy connection will put you on the same footing with the artists your age who are already in house or were educated at FIT or RISD*. It'll be easier for you in the long run, as you won't have to spend a single day trying to decide between buying art supplies or food. Eventually, critics and patrons will like your work on its own merit. Marrying me just makes the way clear, plus there is the advantage of my exquisite talent of pleasing you." He looked at her with an expectant smirk.

PPPxoxNM

She gaped. "Surely you can't be serious. You realize that scenario is just a fantasy of yours?"

"I've seen how passionate you can be about your work and me. That's real. Your ridiculous negativity is what keeps from doing what you really want to do: sew and be with me. Admit it, you want to be with me." He moved closer and closer.

Elizabeth up to this point tried very hard to put his critique into perspective, but was incensed by his last words. He was sure she'd accept! The nerve! She answered, pointing a finger to his chest: "Really, you think I'm the ridiculous one?"

"Of course. You're the one making yourself unhappy about this when the solution is clear."

Elizabeth was eager to respond: "If you've misunderstood me before, let me be clear now. I'm completely unimpressed by your offer, your connections, or you, Fitzwilliam Darcy. So, we're both passionate with each other- in bed. So, we were thrown together for one project. That's all.

But what about when passion dies? Will you respect me then? Because you are clearly not respecting me now. You plan to 'graciously' drop everything for me and plan my life, just so I can have a convenient place to do my work and look better to your circle while I fuck you on the side. Did I once say that I wanted that? If I took your offer and we didn't work out, I'd have nothing left of a career you built, I'd owe you. How can you think I'd want that?

You may think you love me, and you may be trying to prove it in your own warped way. But, to me, love and respect means knowing the classes I'm taking so that you don't make a stupid decision to substitute a class to be near me." He looked at her as if stung. "If you really wanted to 'be there' for me, you'd be here cheer me on, not treat me like a project. You're not nearly as enlightened as you believe. Just because you can paint a pretty picture does not mean you're the Dalai Lama.

Oh, and by the way, as noble as you think it was, I don't appreciate your arranging my life at Opening Night and then expecting me to just follow you around was presuming and degrading to me and my family. You really think I'd rather go fuck you than to be there for my family and that I was actually supposed to be GRATEFUL?

And when did I EVER say that I wanted to leave this town? Who are you to dictate where I live, what I do? You presume WAY too much about our relationship. If I ever thought I had feelings for you, the past few days have shown me you are the last man in the world I'd love, let alone marry." She wiped angry tears from her eyes.

It was his turn to gape. "This is what you think of me? After all that time working together? After what we've shared?"

She was eager to disabuse him of the idea. "I admit your work is brilliant. And yes, working with you has been rewarding, but what good is it when the person behind it is such a pompous ass who believes himself and his work so far above those not in the same artistic sphere as he?

To some elitists I may be a 'hack who has no hope of a career', I may have 'teachers who delude me about my talent.' I may be 'from a school of no consequence, one that will have little to no credibility to any reasonable gallery or graduate school to which I may apply' but I have something more important: my own credibility. Why didn't you tell me you hated my art when you saw it last night- or every single day at dress rehearsal, for example, or before that would be better- like before they were sewn!? Now I know the real reason for why you always rejected my work. How could you fuck me if you thought I was so untalented?"

PPPxoxNM

Darcy leaned back in his chair. "You really don't know me at all. I can't believe you would imagine I'd think that of you. I admit, like you, I am proud of my career and proud of where I come from. I see nothing wrong with that. I can't help that my family is well known.

It's justified that I should be concerned about how our marriage would affect your career, my career, and my family. Critics can be very cruel- they have the power to blackball the most talented artist and make them nothing. My family has been abused by scandal more than once and I don't want it to happen again. Your own family has been unfeeling towards what you do, wasting your time and talents on small town pageants and fairs, surely you see."

Her eyes blazing, no longer held tears." You just don't get it, do you? You think your family above anyone else's. Is that what your family taught you? To be inconsiderate of others' cultures and relationships? I KNOW my family doesn't make it any easier. I KNOW I will have to go without a lot of things in order for my work to succeed, even more so because I don't come from one of 'those schools' or 'those families'.

But must you really be so unkind as to remind me of all this? How dare you devalue my efforts OR my family? And how dare you keep me in the dark about Wickham? Did you have something to hide that was more important than the mystery of your prior acquaintance? I'm beginning to think that there really are 2 sides to the story. Maybe he's right- you're as messed up as he is."

Darcy pursed his lips, "You have said quite enough. I understand it all. Those desires which you once seemed to enjoy have become reprehensible to you. You're clearly convinced to see things your own way despite my attempts to make you see reason. Since we won't have any other relationship,(it was her turn to look up, stung) I plan to honor my obligations here. I will treat you hereafter with the characteristic impartiality that I do toward all pupils. If you have any reason to doubt this treatment, I'm sure Bingley will be happy to take over. On this count you can at least think enough of me to know I have my character as a professional to consider."

"I will always hope for the best for you Elizabeth, for your career, you life, and that of your family." He choked out the last sentence before escaping from the scene as if propelled by some great force. Lizzy was not long to follow. 

* * *

*Sedona- previously referenced- Arizona red rock resort kooky hippie spa town- until it got taken over by developers

*Mesilla- small old town Spanish mission historic district on the southwest edge of Dona Maria

*RISD – Rhode Island School of Design

* * *

reviews? comments? You know what to do:


	19. Chapter 19

shout out to loveinthebattlefield who has loyally reviewed.

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Again, if anyone is interested in helping beta, PM me.

Final tweaking is my own.

* * *

Post Hunsford

Darcy spent the next 24 hours in angst and contemplation. Reviewing conversations over and over had the benefit of certain awareness. He knew there was more than one person in his life to whom he had to answer. Although one had passed into the next world, he knew She would have her own thoughts on the matter of his proposal and expected Her to somehow convey them, but she didn't. He was left all too alone, despite his meditations and offerings. With the scene set, air pregnant with copal, and studio arranged just so, Darcy put his thoughts to paper, deciding that Elizabeth needed to know certain things. It was well into the lunch hour the next day when he finished.

Darcy distractedly met with the jury to select winning submissions. Everyone had their favorite. He had immediately fallen in love with a particular mixed media piece, and as the selection process was blind, Darcy was left to guess its creator. Justifying that he couldn't be sure of its origins, he chose it as the best of the lot while other jurors made their own selections. The meeting was long, and the group ordered dinner in, finally completing the process after much debate. Darcy left the meeting exhausted, hoping that she could still be found within the department. 

_What kind of progression are we on? First the theatre, now here- we find ourselves in these dramas wherever we go_ , Darcy wondered inwardly as he searched for Elizabeth.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

Out of all metalwork techniques, Lizzy loved the feel of forging the best. It was as if the energy she put out reverberated back into her. She sat astride the anvil, focusing her movements into perfecting their shapes with every strike.

Ting! Ting! Ting! The sound of hammer and metal repeated angrily, giving voice to Lizzy's inner dialogue.

Ting! _That's for you, William, and your 'let me be your mentor' routine!_

Ting! _That's for you, Wickham. Thanks for being such an ass!_

Ting! _That's for you William! Who do you think you are, acting like you could take over my life? If you think I'm so untalented why bother!?_

Ting! _That's for you, mom. Why are you such a loon?_

Ting! _That's for you, William, I hate that I can't resist you!_

Ting! Ting! Ting!

Perspiration clung to her body in an aura as she worked, her curls growing wilder as the hours grew later. Lizzy was in such flow that she did not notice someone watching her.

Darcy stood barely in view of the doorway for several moments, not being able to take his eyes from her. Here was the fire woman in her element. _You're to blame_ Darcy said in self chastisement.

He lurked in the dark hallway intent with his thoughts, not realizing that Lizzy was no longer at the anvil. After annealing the work hardened metal and setting them into the pickling solution, she set out to get herself a soda from the downstairs machine, promptly running into a daydreaming Darcy.

Lizzy stood planted, her body against his, her posture tense and eyes confronting. Darcy only barely heard what she growled through clenched teeth. _"What?"_

His head swam from being in such proximity to down at her, Darcy felt left without awareness. Wordless thoughts grasped at all the shoulds- he should have an answer for her, she should just listen to him, his body shouldn't be reacting in this way _..I._ He sputtered, searching for words, his eyes glimmering in anguish.

Backing away, Darcy was about to turn and flee, but recalled the letter in his breast pocket. Fumbling, he handed it to her _, "Here" he_ mumbled. The moment they touched seemed to last forever and Darcy was caught with flashes before his eyes, tears now stinging them from their enticements that would now never come to pass. She looked at him oddly. He tried unsuccessfully to assume an unaffected expression, turned and left.

Lizzy put the letter in her pocket, and channeled all her emotion into continuing her to work. Then, another uninvited Netherfield artist arrived in the studio, invading Lizzy's thoughts as she worked, as she observed Caroline working.

* * *

Good Enough

There she was again. Lizzy couldn't believe her luck. Perfect Caroline, again in one of her white flowy ensembles, stood there at a bench, enameling copper with a painterly precision.

Meanwhile, Lizzy straddled a stool in worn out, torn out jeans, the special ones covered in women's rights patches and splattered in layers of paint and other colors. Those artistic splotches bore evidence of her newest activity. She looked like a robot had attacked her person; metal shavings and particles were evenly distributed, not just on her jeans, but on her ratty Patti Smith tee, (now she wished she'd worn her black Siouxie tee instead), and on her old jump boots, her face, curls, and hands. Every inch.

How could she be such a magnet?

It was so karmically wrong.

Everything felt a struggle today. Her parking place sucked and she had to lug her supplies a good quarter mile to the studio. _ didn't show for the fitting and rescheduled for tonight so she'd be at the university late.

She forgot her lunch and her purse and, without time for anything else, had to scrounge change for a roach coach food and overdone costume shop coffee that was too strong to begin with. She didn't know if the feeling in her gut was from the coffee and burrito or from a certain green eyed entity poking her insides.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

Lizzy wondered at the existential meaning of her envy. Why was she in this position? Caroline somehow weaseled her way into guest lecturing at the Theatre and Art departments over the weeks, having garnered studio space as a visiting artist, AND was going to have a special interdepartmental show before Christmas featuring her performance art and her multimedia work. She was an omnipresent petty tyrant. Thank g-d Lizzy wasn't taking that performance art class for fall semester. Maya told her stories of their guest lecturer with mixed awe and terror.

The only thing that didn't ruin it all was that time a few weeks ago when Caroline was banned from the Costume Shop. Maeve, in her characteristic adamant personality, said "that woman is a conniving bitch and if she makes one more last minute high maintenance request, I am going right up to _'s office and telling him I AM QUITTING!" Lizzy looked up through her lashes, smirking with suppressed satisfaction that at least Maeve didn't worship that woman. Truly, its memory was the only thing saving her today.

Lizzy figured out Caroline must be about Darcy's age after she 'casually' mentioned being in art school with Darcy. Maybe her imaginings were fueled by Darcy's proposition, but she didn't examine them closely.

 _What a treat that must have been. Banging all the art school teachers and visiting artists or at least having a social status to network with them and further her coareer… the money to buy the best materials and enale her to focus 100 % on her work…. The ability to hire someone else to do the PR and hire any mentor her heart desired…yes, I'd be talented too with all of those resources._

She couldn't help it. Lizzy found herself perfectly jealous of this artist who mingled with the uber hip crowd. She probably even knew Banksy's secret identity, Lizzy grumbled to herself. Not that Lizzy was particularly passionate about the artist's work more than an artistic appreciation (so why should she care, right?) Not that someone like Banksy would mix with someone who was so class conscious, but, there had to be some kind of point where the elite of any area just blur into a mass that was impregnable to all others no matter how talented, intelligent, degreed one was.

And yet, some deep part of herself prodded: _you may enjoy sex with men you've loved, but you aren't into casual sex like she is; you may not have access to the scene or lessons, but you have unique talent that is widely recognized; besides, you wouldn't be interested in the kind of life she so clearly leads- pretentious, proprietary, superficial and status conscious for all its beauty. You do NOT want what she has!_

 _But I do!_ The petulant part pouted. Her envy was not about to be talked out of a good sulk, and so continued in a similar vein. Nor did she realize what emotion her thoughts had revealed about a certain person. She was far too occupied with inadequacy.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

Caroline also had this way of turning up with all the things Lizzy coveted.

Bespoke boots? Check.

Custom made corset? Check.

High end independent designer 'casual' wear? Check.

Exquisitely crafted accoutrements? Check.

Art supplies out of the best raw materials? Check

How could Lizzy really feel Darcy was serious for more than a fling with herself? Caroline was already in his world. How is it that Darcy had expressed an interest in herself?

Ironic to be so interested in his preferences, after trying to avoid him so many times, only to fail miserably. It certainly had not helped that first he insulted her, then pursued her until he was banging her silly- well at least a few times. _How could I have become so attached to him?_

It didn't help that Caro was a frenemy of sorts. Elizabeth didn't have it in her to openly disdain Caro. Her art was honestly too good, and, although the woman clearly had privilege, she also had talent that was optimized with opportunity. Even though she chafed to make conversation with Caro, Lizzy gave her best effort to be nice. At least most of the time.

It wouldn't do to burn that bridge. Their paths could cross in unexpected ways. Or, at least just the expected one, being that their siblings were attached at the hip. Lizzy's gut wrenched at the idea of a holiday spent with one of the most insipid women on the planet. How could she so deftly avoid real communication, while managing to articulate in depth on the subjects of art, clothes and lifestyle? Quite frankly her status talk was intimidating.

Although always polite, Caro did things to one-up her. Lizzy just knew she did. Like talking around her when they were in a group, walking ahead of her and ignoring her input in group conversations...

Other times, when it was just the 2 of them, Caro dispensed helpful tidbits, for example., and they'd had some admittedly delightful conversations about her experiences. Caro may be shallow, but she could tell a good story. _Were she merely my blood enemy, life would be much simpler_ , Lizzy sighed.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

Just then, a janitor started his buffing machine in the hallway, alerting Lizzy to the time. It was certainly past regular school hours now, as they only cleaned after 10. Musing about her feelings so long accomplished very little in the way of her own work, a series of fold-formed pieces. All the research she'd done for That Play inspired her to base this project on Classical mythological goddesses and heroines. The mixed media book would combine a handmade leather binding and metal work detailing her beloved found objects with framed plates, hand rendered with a quill in India ink.

Caro also took the janitors movements as a cue to pack up. Finishing, she admired Lizzy's work in progress which was still strewn about the work area. While Caro's face bore an expression of admiration (Lizzy thought) she (again) withheld anything that would resemble verbal recognition, instead commenting: "Classical mythology? You know there is a fabulous workshop that my dear friend Catalina is putting on this summer in Sedona? You'd like it." She pulled out a pamphlet with a NeoPreraphaelite paintings on it.

A De Burgh?

"Yes, of course. It's a little workshop that she puts on from time to time. You really must go; I could see where it would be of great help."

 _There she is again with her restrained tone mixed with admiration and condescension._ Out loud however, Lizzy responded that the workshop indeed sounded like it had great potential. Taking the brochure, she mentally noted the workshop's date was in the middle of summer internship. Not that it would matter- she couldn't afford it anyway.

* * *

I know you may be waiting for the letter but Lizzy was fuming and she had to have her say!

Patience and reviews

are appreciated :)


	20. Chapter 20

Here it is

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

* * *

Please Read the Letter

Lizzy hadn't even opened Darcy's letter until after Christmas break started. She was too mad, too tender, too careful to avoid everything involving him. Gratefully, he only lectured for two weeks- on the Romantic Artists, including the Preraphaelites, Art Nouveau, Symbolism and the Arts and Crafts Movement, all areas of specialty, before turning over the Fauvist, Pointillist, Impressionist and other late movements to Bingley.

Initially she successfully repressed thoughts of him, or channeled those thoughts into long hours of study or her final project in Jewelry III and Special Projects. It was satisfying to actually get A's in Art History and Anthropology and a B- in Applied Sciences.

Even more shocking, she actually placed in the juried exhibit. Her Mourning Veil had won a nice cash prize, which would come in handy in the summer during her internship. She'd hoped to win the Grand Prize- a summer at the Artist's School in Santa Fe. But, that had gone to Mary King, highly deserving of the prize as the ceramic anatomical heart she made was a wonder. Lizzy considered herself lucky to have placed at all after the scathing critique of… well, she wouldn't go there.

Jane left the previous Thursday to spend the holiday with Charles and get settled in, and Charlotte was off with Richard; Maya had gone to her family's in St. Louis, Aunt Phil and Tia Lena were busy with their respective holiday rushes, and so there was no one to with whom she could further distract herself.

That Monday of Christmas Break Lizzy could no longer escape that folded packet of Arches papers in the pocket of her women's rights jeans. She'd avoided wearing them ever since that Monday and they still lay on the floor of her closet, taunting her. Just now, no one in the Bennet household k _new,_ which meant she could react however she wanted and there wasn't anyone to badger Lizzy about her reactions or tell her to deal with her feelings.

For once, Elizabeth did not want to confront anything. She wanted to read the letter, perhaps burn it afterward, then do whatever she could to avoid thinking about this past semester's mistake. Locking her bedroom door, Lizzy unfolded and read it.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

 _Elizabeth,_

 _I've taken a great deal of time to reflect on the charges lain before me and am compelled to answer them- at length- as it may turn out. I hope you will do me the honor of reading this._

 _First, I was clearly mistaken in my belief that could know your wishes or you without truly seeking to know you better. You shared your plans with me early on. By my presumption, I minimized your own ability to work things out. I thought you'd want things to be 'easier' and to have more access to places where I think your talents would be better appreciated. It is now too late to learn more about what you want- in the moment, and life- and for that I am sorry. As for your frustration at my lack of communicating my wishes, I am also sorry. I should have told you more about my hopes and concerns instead of thinking you could intuit them._

* * *

 _I clearly presumed too much when I gave you unwanted advice. I was taught to think well of my talent, having been nurtured from a young age as a prodigy. Until I came here I've never been so out out of the familiar. The discomfort has been good for me; I have seen that there is more to the world than I knew._

 _Obviously I am still a product of my environment and upbringing: My family, despite their tragedies, was blessed in material and social aspects but unconsciously promoted a certain privileged naivety about the world around me._ _I thank you, your family and my experiences here for enlightening me. While your family enjoys its own success, I see you all have known struggles that I've not, that I'd never have to worry about- keeping the farm and your way of living going in a time that makes such occupations more and more difficult._

 _I have felt protective of you toward your family, at least, those members who either don't appreciate your talent or seem to want to actively squelch it. I also was furious that your family would behave in the manner they did on 'your' night. But recalling how my own family can behave despite their love for me, I have realized how arrogant I have been in my presumptions. And again, I am sorry for my arrogance on all counts._

* * *

 _As for my unwelcome proposal: it may have been too soon, but I sincerely hope I was not mistaken that you had or have some feeling for me. You told me you liked my attentions, my company, and I certainly enjoyed- loved- yours. Was it so misguided to want to be generous to you, someone for whom I have such deep hopes and feelings?_

 _I had no idea that the woman who would capture my heart at a club was also a student where I was to be a guest faculty. It is true that, had I taken the trouble to know more about you, I would have at least realized your name was similar to the one on the cast and crew list. I know it is hypocritical to say that as I claim to be a man of honor, because I allowed my desire for you in the moment to get the better of my reason. I truly thought I had acted in a manner to show my belief that we are equals. For my rashness and inconsideration, I am sorry. You have to understand, for what my word is worth, that I'm generally not so rash to 'jump into bed' and I intended more than that from the very beginning.  
_

* * *

 _It is ironic that I could be so unaware of my sense of superiority when I have visions that are supposed to give me greater awareness. You may not believe what you saw that day in my studio, or what I am telling you, but it is true. You were in visions I've had. Can you deny that you thought those pictures were of you? I made them from those visions before we set eyes upon one another._

 _I felt a deeper connection to you. I don't care if you think it's crazy. It's true. And because of my feelings for you, I respect and care about you enough to not push you now that I see how unwelcome my affection is.  
_

* * *

 _You claim you've heard me say you lack talent, and went on to list other of my apparent criticisms. I've never said or even thought that. I realized later that you quoted a conversation I'd had that morning with my Aunt Catalina, who, you know is a great artist in her own right and chairs Rosings Foundation. Some Rosings clients are true talents or seekers but too many consist of badly behaving idle rich._

 _Her previous lack of checking what went on under that roof resulted in a scandal. She could have used the learning opportunity to make Rosings a place to heal for people who need it. While she does enforce a strict ethics code of no fraternizing, it is perfectly ok, as far as she is concerned, for her staff to act as yesmen to clients who can pay for her to look the other way about other bad behaviors._

 _Despite this, I still appreciate the opportunity to serve- I appreciate the Art Therapy that does take place with the good clients who far outweigh the bad. That is the main reason I still teach there. Catalina has this delusion that I'm going to take over for her when she dies and I lost my temper when I spoke with her that day. It had absolutely nothing to do with your work.  
_

* * *

 _If I've not been clear before, this is how I see you: Elizabeth Bennet, you are generous in your attentions to those you love. You have a keen wit and remarkable understanding about beauty and meaning. Your aesthetic, the manner in which you combine lost arts and found objects astounds and inspires me. I also looked up your other work. Extensively. Maeve was helpful with that, as were the faculty here (don't worry, I did this after the juried exhibit. I wanted to remain as blind as I could, although your piece was unmistakeably yours when I saw it)_

 _Your workmanship is advanced for someone of your stage, and couldn't be more appropriate for the projects you choose. I deeply respect your commitment to your heritage. Artists mature and go through rites of passage, some of which you've already experienced. I'm in a different stage of maturity. That's not to say you're inferior to me as an artist. You're merely in another stage, and you can't jump ahead. I wanted to take those steps with you but you wisely pointed out that people must make their own way in life, no matter how intimate they are with other/s.  
_

* * *

 _There is another important matter I was very wrong not to tell you about: the relationship of myself and my family with George Wickham. The history is painful and you can imagine why I had difficulty discussing it. I ask you to keep this confidence but hope it may guide you in regard to that man._

 _I can't remember a time Wickham was not in my childhood. His parents were close family friends and directors of the Darcy Arts Camp for Special Children, a beloved camp endowed by our extended family's far reaching wealth. My father was the head of the board; my mother, an artist in residence. We often spent weekends and holidays togeher. George was a little older than me, very outgoing, and I admired him very much. George was 14 when his parents were killed in a car accident coming home from a party one night. His aunt took him to her horse farm in _. I lost my best friend. I wrote, but when he didn't answer my letters, I stopped._

 _When I was 18, to our great joy, George found my dad and was hired to work as a chef at the Camp. Not only did the man make delightful, nutritious meals that the kids ate, he contributed to planning events and held the entire staff in his thrall. I was excited to see my old friend, but from the moment of his return, I intuited something had changed. George had a hard edge most didn't see._

 _The Camp had a tense atmosphere because some of the teens got into trouble after being at the camp. Drugs were involved, and eventually, my dad traced them back to Wickham. Dad had a lot of pressure to prosecute from the board. Dad worked with George's legal defender so he pled down and served time in treatment. Months later George got out 'a changed man', and Dad got him a good job in the city at a 'clean' restaurant. George was clean and really making an effort._

* * *

 _The family's foundation consumed my father and he spent a great deal of time repairing the far reaching problems George was a part of. I think my mother kept from him how sick she was because they were so passionate about the Camp. She wanted this legacy for them both and didn't want him to worry about her._

 _Meanwhile, I had gotten into _ Design Institute. I had dreamed all my life of going to RISD but chose this smaller school because it was close by. When mom was sick, I could take care of her and Jorge. I don't know what I would have done without Reynaldo, our personal assistant and the staff she employed for our everyday care: For me, just watching out for mom, having Jorge do his homework between my own schoolwork was stressful enough._

 _So, evenings when George came over were an enjoyable routine while I was in school. We ate out at 'George's' restaurant often, especially after mom died in my sophomore year. He and Jorge seemed to forge a close bond, but, in our grief, neither I nor dad took great notice. After Mom's death, Dad distanced himself from us when started dating again about 6 months after mom died. By now I was a surrogate mom and dad to my brother.  
_

 _Things changed drastically when Dad had a massive heart attack and died my last year of college. In the middle of graduating, had to get the family's affairs together along with other family members. We reorganized the foundation and I, along with my aunt and uncle temporarily shared Dad's responsibilities as interim co-chairs of the Camp's board._

 _I didn't realize until later Wickham's offer to 'help out in' meant that he was asking for his dad's old job as Camp Director. Nor did I realize how badly he took rejection when we didn't hire him like he wanted._

* * *

 _I didn't notice how Jorge, then 15, and Wickham- in his mid 20's- had gotten even closer. Nor did I recognize erratic behavior was not due to grief but drugs. Wickham had started taking my under age brother to clubs. What started out as just dancing and socializing, became a reason to drink and use whatever was available. I had a rude awakening when I got a call that Jorge had not been in school for 3 days. I was worried sick, but believed good old brotherly Wickham would know where he was._

 _I was overwrought to find Jorge in his bed, both of them obviously high, Jorge looking ill, emaciated, and having an abscess on his arm. I screamed at Wickham for ruining my brother and told him to never go near us again. Because he saw me punch Wickham in the face, Jorge wouldn't listen to my pleas to go inpatient. I frantically called my aunt and she rushed over._

 _Thank G-d my Aunt Beatrice, Richard's mother, convinced Jorge, in his state, to get treatment. As he gained sobriety, Jorge started talking to me again, but was guarded. It took a lot of counseling for me to learn that lecturing my brother and getting mad at him wouldn't help either of us recover._

 _Jorge had the harder work of us, but it was damn hard for me to not try and control him, and to learn to trust him again while holding him responsible in the right way. He got out after a few weeks and moved home where our work continued._

 _Oblivious to our concerns, Wickham came to our house, days after Jorge's discharge, apparently having lost his job. He blamed it on us, certain that we'd told his employer. From his even worse appearance than before, it was clear he'd lost his job from his problem with drugs. I offered to send him to rehab but he took that as an affront, coming back days later, desperate for a place to stay, and took me up on the offer._

 _I was careful to keep Jorge out of sight when Wickham came around, but they had gotten into contact again while Wickham was in rehab and they kept secretly meeting when he got out. Wickham told Jorge that his parent's accident was caused by unsafe road conditions at the camp that_ _our_ _parents had refused to correct. It was dad's fault that Wickham was 'discriminated against' at the camp because he knew the truth._

 _He told Jorge that I had refused his application as the camp director and that my and the extended family's 'rejection' was due to his being gay. He convinced Jorge that I was against their relationship for the same reason. Jorge was poisoned against me and the whole family, but he had found another 'family' in recovery who he knew accepted his orientation. Jorge's sponsor fortunately saw through a lot of Wickham's lies and convinced him to talk to me. Thankfully Jorge believed me. He was crushed that Wickham held such irrational rage against me._

 _To this day neither of us believe Wickham is coming from a bad place, but that the addiction impact his sense of right and wrong, cause and effect. We both wish him well and still hold out hope that he will recover. We, neither of us, can trust him, though until he has a long history of sobriety under his belt, along with work showing his new credibility, before we can make amends. I give greater credit to Jorge here. He has learned- taught me- to sit with disparate feelings of rage and pathos for the same person. At this time, however, we must contain any sympathy and let Wickham take his own path as he has done enough damage to our family._

* * *

 _Certain critics, for example, easily believed the words of this unwell, embittered man who besmirched our family after everything happened with Jorge, and who was also intimately involved in the scandal at Rosings (which is another story to tell). Jorge was devastated that his 'first love' would out him and allow his private issues to be leaked. I think this finally caused him to think about the age difference and how inappropriate it was._

 _It took a long time, even still, for Jorge to work out his sexual orientation independent of the way in which he discovered it. He is still clean, and has found healthier relationships and his own way in the world, thank goodness. He knows that I, and the rest of our family, support him as a person, and just want him to find a man who is healthy and deserves him._

 _The reason for the story is that the pattern that looks quite similar with your own brother and hope that he, too, has not been poisoned by Wickham. I hope your family can find a resolution which will support Lydon for who he is and encourage him to have more healthy relationships. And now you know what that means; with men who are of an appropriate age to Lydon, who are sober, and who are an asset to his life, loving him unconditionally._

 _In the ways I've communicated with you about your family, I have been judgmental. As you can see, my own family has struggled as well, and I hoped to spare you from similar pain from a man who can do great damage if he is crossed. You know I'm a very private person. I ask you to honor that reserve with which I conduct my personal affairs. I would never out my brother to anyone, but felt in this circumstance, it couldn't be avoided. I know you are ok with people of all orientations and have utmost faith in your discretion._

 _Of course, my sincerest hope is that you might take a certain action in a particular quarter, but I leave everything up to you and will always wish for your highest good and the continued well being of your family. I won't prevail upon you again. Should you wish any kind of relationship with me,_ _any_ _kind_ _, I leave it up to you._

 _I apologize for the length of this letter, but now you have all the details._

 _With deepest affection,_

 _F. Darcy_

* * *

After reading it, Lizzy felt the absence of something indeterminate, and it left only hollowness behind. Folding the letter, she put it in a secret compartment of her tool box with deliberate, slow actions, then went to the stable and prepared Eos. She rode him on down the Rio Grande levee so far she could have sworn she was almost to Hatch when she came to her senses, turned back and went home.

Exhausted after reading the missive, Lizzy regretted her assumptions, her selfishness at not trying harder to understand Darcy or get to know him. She mourned the loss of potential that could have come from relationship. Not for the privilege, but for the mutual living out of their work that she experienced in glimmers while they had worked on the Production together.

Ironically, there was also a great sense of relief that she wouldn't have to carry the burden of such responsibility at the moment. It somehow added weightiness to her will to work, a burden for which she had not been prepared. Its gravitational pull to her ego been long lasting and she merely went through the motions of the holidays, only slowly emerging from semi consciousness as she struggled unsuccessfully to set her aspirations aright, that hollowness pulling her under with its growing weight. And she hadn't even begun to consider other parts of the letter, the ones about her family.

* * *

OK, so the letter was long.

I don't think it far exceeds the cannon letter in word count, but I could be way off.

reviews would make me everso happy:)


	21. Chapter 21

Let's check in and see how Jane is faring, shall we?

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

* * *

If things come awry

Jane left with Charles to Albuquerque and they drove her trailer into the garage at the Gardiners while she and Charles went back to his place for the night. Break was spent enjoyably with Charles and Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and then with the entire Bennet clan when they came up for Christmas. Jane stayed with the Gardiners for the duration of her family's visit, mostly due to her father's sensibilities.

PPPxoxNM

Christmas was a snowy affair, filled with nights looking at farolitos in the Old Town Plaza and other sites (or luminarias, depending on what part of New Mexico one hails from). The days were occupied with tamale and biscocho making along with favorites that Tia Lena brought from her home town, including evenings of Posadas including ponche at the end of the evenings to keep things warm and merry.

Even the pensive Lizzy could find some bright spots in the holiday. At any rate, Lena always kept the group so busy Lizzy didn't have time- or make time- to confide in either her Tia or Jane about the letter. She found herself falling into bed and sleeping for 10 plus hours every night, anyway. Her mother gave her lots of grief but Tia always came to her rescue telling her sister in law to let the poor dear sleep. Jane stole what moments she could with Charles and simply assumed her sister was recuperating from the grueling Fall semester. Of course Mary was busy with Collins, enjoying her new romance in between sitting for her young cousins.

Tia Lena knew how to keep Lyon and Kitty busy, too. She knew the pair were quite financially motivated and could put forth quite the effort with the right inducement. The teenagers managed the store which was near enough to UNM to keep at least a trickle of students coming through the store's doors with their family. Their behavior was impeccable regardless of temptation to leave their post to flirt with college kids. Tia Lena wasn't stupid. She used a carrot- stick method, informing her charges that there were hidden cameras and she checked the till and sales daily. If she found anything missing or damaged, Kitty and Lydon would be disciplined by Herself- a prospect far scarier than to face either their mother or father, for Tia promised to make them refinish an old table with multiple coats of paint. They knew she was as good as her word, as her lovely refinished dining room chairs can attest.

The Bennets left a day after boxing day. Tom swore he hadn't spent near enough time scouring the numerous bookstores for first editions, but, Francesca, satisfied with her after Christmas sale finds, proclaimed the trip complete. And so, home they went.

PPPxoxNM

Jane was sad to see them go, but happy that she'd be returning to Charles's that night.

Jane scheduled an appointment with her advisor to ensure her transfer was in order for next semester. Wearing a new galactic print wrap dress that showed her leg scar, Jane felt confident in a way she hadn't felt before. She noticed the advisor gave her a once over when she entered the office, at first assuming the advisor was simply surprised at her scar. Resolving that this was the type of behavior she had to expect, so Jane steeled herself and prepared for the academic interview.

She should have been forewarned when the advisor spoke at length with Jane about what brought her to UNM, as well as her boyfriend's profession, the department advisor's review of UNM's ethical code in the School of Psychology. It was only then that her stomach dropped as she saw a magazine open to a photograph of an all-too-familiar scar- and the rest of the figure that Charles had painted. Her face red with humiliation, she assured the advisor that she would see to these matters and get back with the school, leaving immediately.

Jane spent hours ruminating, crying, fuming, first in nearest restroom she could find, then in her car, then in the parking lot of a cafe conveniently situated off the freeway that lead from UNM to the Gardiners. Tia Lena and Uncle had taken the kids out and they weren't home, she let herself in and sat in the dark looking out the window. She had long since put the phone on silent, ignoring it. An inward resolve broke and she looked at her phone. 16 missed calls and 5 emails, all from _him._ She stared at the screen, daring it to light up. When it did: "GUESS HOW MY INTERVIEW WENT TODAY!?" She demanded.

"Jane, angel, what's the matter?" Charles asked, his voice shaky.

"My department advisor asked me a series of questions about ethics, which, initially, I expected, until I looked over at his choice of reading materials. I then realized that I had been very foolish in making made the MISTAKE of posing NUDE for my SUCCESSWHORING 'boyfriend'!"(he could hear the airquotes in the ironic tone of her voice)

"Is that what your developer daddy taught you? Exploit the characteristics of your commodity to its full advantage in order to make the best deal? Maybe you wanted to go one up on the old man and show you could even stick it (and I mean that literally) to a disabled woman to boot?

WELL CONGRATULATIONS! Your father would be proud!"

If a cell phone could be slammed violently to hang up, Charles supposed the nondescript click at the other end would have sounded much different.

He was still in shock when the phone rang again, and, seeing Lena's number, he picked up tentatively, expecting to be screamed at for some mysterious thing he'd done. Instead, Charles got the answer he had been in too much denial to cipher on his own. Lena kindly congratulated him on his most recent success and told him how beautiful Jane was and how proud he must be that his work had made it to January's Land of Enchantment magazine. Charles responded a questioning Thank you, followed by requesting Lena to please keep in touch and that he wanted to make sure Jane was OK. She enigmatically answered that she didn't suppose this would be their last conversation as there was a question of what to do with one very lovely antique locket. When he asked if she had any idea when he could see Jane, Lena only wished him well and said her goodbyes.

Continuing to want- rather than know- things were otherwise, Charles forced himself to be naive to the situation while calmly picking up the stack of mail he'd so far neglected. The biggest one was a package about the size of a magazine. Opening it, he found a copy of January's Land of Enchantment with a letter of congratulations from the Editor, which had conveniently been tucked into a double page spread with his portrait of a lounging nude Jane featured prominently, along with more information which Charles had given a friend, someone he now recollected was a freelance journalist, the one who had photographed him at Netherfield.

Retracing his steps the evening of opening night, Charles swore had been careful- he thought- to lock the studio. He had been nervous that so many people hovered around, but assumed that people would respect the privacy of a locked door. What didn't make sense is how they could have published a piece without permission until he realized that he'd signed a paper for what he'd assumed had been photographing the party for the events column. Dammit, he had been in too much of a hurry to read it thoroughly and now-THIS.

Charles had PROMISED Jane, for all the good his words had been. Feeling blood pumping through that vein in his temple, Charles now tore through other pieces of mail.

He received several offers for the pieces of Jane featured in the layout, all of them in sums that dwarfed the current asking prices of his previous work. The value of his work had just gone up exponentially. He was simultaneously overjoyed and horrified. Part of him though that now Jane wouldn't NEED to make a living and they could easily live of the sums offered for his work.

The other part realized how Jane had just given the most sacred part of herself, the most wounded part, revealed it to him in confidence, only to have him bare it to the world after 10 minutes of flattery and camaraderie from a so called friend. No, he couldn't even say that. The man was a colleague and friend of sorts.

It NEVER occurred to Charles that any pictures published without his advance viewing. He stupidly left Jane bare, not even recognizing in the moment her deepest personal and professional need for privacy. He hadn't only done this once, but had repeatedly spoken about his portraits of Jane to several Santa Fe colleagues during the Opening Night party.

By now, his hands were shaking and that vein felt like a geyser about to blow at any minute. Charles took about 4 ibuprofen for all the good it would do. Then he called Darcy, ticking off the slowly passing milliseconds before Darcy picked up on the first ring.

"You did WHAT?" Darcy roared after Charles confessed everything. "I was afraid this would happen. Why didn't you have her sign a contract?"

"They were meant to be private." Charles felt like he was a 10 year old boy, being scolded.

"A hell of a lot of good that does when you allow Caroline to invite PHOTOGRAPHERS to your party? I saw where this was going. What are you going to do now?" His voice was so loud Charles had to hold the phone away from his ear, and that was after he'd turned the volume down.

"I thought you'd have an idea," he spoke carefully into the phone, "That's why I'm calling you."

"Me?" Darcy harrumphed, "I'm not a lawyer. You may not have gotten along with your old man but didn't he at least teach you to cover your ass?"

Charles answered, "It's not my ass that I care about. I want to take care of Jane. I want to make this right. I don't need a fucking lawyer to fix my relationship."

"Well in case you haven't noticed, I'm not one to look to in that department, either!" Sighing, Darcy asked, "What is it you want to do about it?"

Darcy listened while his friend came up with his own solutions involving making Jane his permanent muse in art and life.

Darcy tersely responded. "So what you want to do is to take this woman who has found her own way in the world, the way that you crushed out of carelessness, and rescue her? Honestly, do you think that simply by convincing her that you are now at a new level as an artist and can support her forever that she'll just up and say 'my hero! Of course I'll agree to letting you sell those portraits where I BARED MY SOUL!'"

Charles remained silent. "Charles, most women aren't waiting for a prince anymore. I learned that myself recently, from a woman who is cut out of the same cloth, literally. If I were you, buddy, I'd come up with another plan. Maybe you should go to her family and talk to them. They'd be better and helping you figure out what to do since they know her best, and they have her best interests in mind. Do you remember that her aunt was acquainted with my mom? I think you may need some territorial furniture, my friend."

Charles was confused. "What does that have to do with talking to her aunt? Wait, she's the one who sold your mom 'our' Council of Elrond dining set?" *

"The very one." Darcy answered. "Wanna meet me in Old Town tomorrow at 9or so?"

* * *

Las Posadas: en dot wikipedia dot org/wiki/Las_Posadas

Tamales are corn husk wrapped masa (a type of ground corn meal) encased pocket of goodness.

Ponche is a fruity punch with alcohol.

Biscochios/ Biscochitos are delicious spice cookies.

Old Town in Albuquerque is from the Spanish Collonial era.

Luminarias/ Farolitos are traditionally candles sitting in sand inside paper bags lining buildings, etc. It may sound mundane but it is - forgive me- warmly luminous.

*my fanciful name for a territorial/old world style dining room set like this:

www dot accentsofsalado dot com/RusticFurnitureTraditionalSpanishDiningChairs dot html

I have some chairs similar to this and think they bear a resemblance to the Lord of the Rings Elven furniture- in fact that is why we own them- and we call them our Council of Elrond chairs!

* * *

And So Is Love

When the bell tinkled that new customers arrived at Toltec Tokens, Lena answered instantly without turning her head. "Good afternoon Fitzwilliam and Charles."

"How can you do that?" Charles asked incredulously. Darcy only smirked.

"I suppose you have come to what little senses you have and want to ask my advice", she countered." And I don't mean about furniture. Unless, by furniture, you intend to ask my advice on how to move a certain trailer of furniture in my garage into your house? If you are here about that, I can help you, but only if you listen to me and do what I say."

Charles gaped. "How did you know that?"

She continued to work while talking, "It's not hard to figure out. The trailer is very big and easy to see. And the HOA*, they complain."

Charles figured she wasn't going to let him in on her uncanny abilities of discernment, so he decided to take advantage of her offer of advice about Jane. "What do I do? I totally fucked up".

At this she turned around and held up a scolding finger, "Ah! Ah! I am very aware of how you so cruelly exposed one of my dearest ones to the scrutiny of the world but there is no need to use such language here. I am a lady."

Charles slumped further. "Yes ma'am."

Tia Lena nodded in satisfaction. "That's better. I am glad you realized that you were an asshole. Now, before I go on, can you promise to me that you won't screw up ever, ever again?"

"I'm afraid I can't. But I'm willing to learn, and to do what you say." He looked earnestly at the fearsome woman.

"Smart man. You are going to screw up again and you might as well start getting used to listening to a Gardiner woman to fix it. Alright, then. My niece is crying her eyes out at my house this very minute. She was given a very stern interrogation involving the livelihood of her boyfriend and the ethics of her major and chosen profession. Do you have any guesses as to WHY, Charles?" Her arms were crossed and head tilted, expectantly.

Doing his best not to squirm, Charles answered, his voice shaking; "Yes ma'am. She let me take photographs and paint portraits of her in… varying… ah… stages of um….un- … undre-e-ess…"

"What kind of a man are you to stutter at what you've done when you were man enough to do it?" Her voice was stern.

He cleared his throat and attempted a better answer. "Obviously not a very good one, ma'am."

"Well, knowing is half the battle. Since she also made such a stupid decision to pose for you.. and I suppose there was no contract? She mentioned none."She raisedher brows expectantly, and, receiving no answer, continued.

"Don't even answer me, you stupid boy. I can tell by your face. If you plan on making it right, you should equally benefit from your mutually stupid decision. Share equally in your royalties, without assuming she will want to share your life. It's logical really. Haven't you always paid your models well? She can take her share and go wherever to rebuild her life now that she feels uncertain about her major." Tia nodded her head once as if the matter was settled and turned to resume her work.

Charles just stood, frowning, "But I thought you said you'd be able to get rid of Jane's furniture… I thought that meant…"

She turned around again, "You thought it meant I was going to tell you how to woo your angel back. Well, You two stupidheads will have to figure that out on your own, but I know my nieces and the last way to do that is if you tried to play Mr. Prince and carry her off on your white horse. She may be a princess but she hates that shit- she's a rodeo princess after all and she's got her own horse. Now, go talk to her and make her feel good about the stupid things she's done. That's the way young love works."

She turned her back and resumed making a display of textiles and bubble glass.*Darcy couldn't help but snicker and immediately regretted it. "Ai, you're one to laugh. When you're ready to fix your mess and deal with your own Gardiner woman, come back." Both men decided to leave while they had a chance.

* * *

Charles and William parted ways and Charles took Lena's advice. Initially one of Lena's daughters, Lettie, answered the door and told him that Jane said to tell him she wasn't home. The house phone rang just then and Lettie went to answer it.

Lettie returned and said, "My mom said that you are not to believe me if I tried to say Jane isn't home, and to apologize for lying. She said that you are to wait here until I get Jane and that if Jane doesn't come down, I'm supposed to call her and give the phone to Jane. She said that if you guys start yelling and throwing things to call the police." Charles didn't know whether to be amused or scared, but before he could decide, Jane was before him.

Apparently she had gotten a similar message. "I was told that to listen to you or get kicked out of my own Aunt and Uncle's house. Here I am." Her eyes blazed in defiance but Charles could tell that they were also puffy from recently shed tears.

"Jane, I don't know what you are ready to hear. But, seeing as how I have allowed something private and sacred between us to be carelessly displayed and exploited, I think, I feel, I must address that first. I know that my carelessness may have resulted in your inability to continue in your career, in your chosen major. I never had you sign a contract because it was always to be between us.

Because, in my naive stupidity I let a photographer friend take pictures the night of the party, thinking that a locked door would be enough of a message to keep him out of my studio, but it wasn't. Your image, your deepest secrets in a way, are out in pubic now. I can't take those pictures back. But I can at least help you have another life with them. Whether or not I'm included in that life is up to you. Jane, I'm being given the opportunity to sell those portraits for tens of thousands of dollars.

That is exponentially more than I have EVER sold my paintings or photographs for. One buyer is offering for one painting as much as I've made in 3 months! And that's just one-I've not sold any but if you allow them all to sell, and we split the profits, it would enough to finance school or whatever other plans you have to make now, with or without me." He had measured his words and after finishing, held his breath for her answer.

After what seemed an eternity, she spoke, "Well, for now, as much as part of me misses you, I hate you. I hate what you've done!"

He quickly agreed, "I hate what I've done!"

"But I don't really have much of a choice, do I? I suppose in a way your offer is generous, but it doesn't make up for the very high risk of having to change my school and career plans again. This is the second time my fucking body has made me change my plans. I hate it!" She broke down but refused Charles the comfort of hugging her.

He was forced to stand there awkwardly and watch. "I hate what I've done. But I'll never stop loving you, your inner and outer beauty, no matter what becomes of us. And I'll never sell your paintings if you say the word. I'll write a retraction to the magazine if they let me print it. You're welcome to contact me, or have your lawyer contact me, or your aunt. Whatever can possibly be done to bring you any hope or comfort that is in my power, say it, and I will do it."

He hesitated in the doorway for some time, watching her cry, not knowing whether to stay or go. Finally, Charles realized that he was not wanted or needed. Broken, he went home to await any word, any decision.

It had occurred to him to call Caro and rail at her for defying his orders not to get into his studio the night of the party. He did and she swore she did nothing of the kind. She was so terrifying and vehement in her answer, Charles almost left it at that, but if he had to anger his sister to keep Jane, so be it. He asked her to at least make inquiries about how this mistake could have occurred. He knew he had locked he studio. Caroline curtly agreed she would try and hung up.

Not an hour later, she called back reporting that "F*ing Mike let the photographer in! I'm going to kill them both!" Charles had no doubt that she would now let loose her fury on behalf of little brother, at least insofar as it wouldn't hurt her own career. Satisfied at this answer to 'how', he still knew the bulk of blame fell to himself for not protecting the work further by a contract and putting it away. At least he could tell Jane what happened, if she even wanted to know, wanted to talk to him again.

*HOA- home owners association- for those of you living in places where they don't exist or have other names- a neighborhood association that sets rules such as not being able to park certain things on the street like a trailer.

* * *

I hope this is right (fingers crossed).

The modeling thing is what I checked on and I believe it to be realistic from my research. I think there are those of you out there who might tell me for sure if this is accurate/realistic or not.

more to come this weekend


	22. Chapter 22

More Jane and Charles business.

please review if you want to have more info on how Darcy spent his holiday - I will put in an addition!

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

* * *

Rubberband Girl

The next couple of days proceeded for Jane in much the same fashion, excepting the call from Charles. He had left her alone to brood. Having grown up with a mind never to dwell on the failings of others, two great losses in such a short time caused her optimism to flip like a coin to its alternate side. Jane felt suddenly aware that she was at the tip of all the iceberg of suffering felt in the world.

While she was in pain, others had much worse pain, much bigger problems than she did. She was at a loss to know what to do about it since her vocation to ease its suffering was also now ripped from her grasp. At one point, Aunt Lena made her stop posting on social media because she found and shared every meme or movement or other depicting a suffering animal, person or historical event filled with some type of persecution or atrocity.

Finally, Aunt Lena made her get dressed and they went to get their nails done. Jane protested that she shouldn't be getting a spa treatment because it was a waste of money that could go to some better cause. "Muchacha, you think that this money going to the ladies who do our nails, the refugees from Vietnam who are now working and own a successful business making women feel beautiful, you think the money could be spent better? On what?"

Jane was chastened when she realized that Lena herself came from a family who had, 2 generations previously, lived in a house with dirt floors. She realized the world was a more complicated place than one filled with suffering and those who exploit the afflicted. While they sat and got manis and pedis, Jane further considered her own narcissism thinking that she was suffering so greatly. Aunt Lena, however, interrupted further reverie. "I have made an appointment with a lawyer who specializes in representing people in the arts. We need to hurry or we'll be late."

Jane and Tia met with a kindly man in an impressive office full of paintings. He had the latest Land of Enchantment magazine on his desk. At first Jane was nervous but it dissipated when she looked into his kind eyes that conveyed a knowledge without any disapproval.

They met briefly, Tia already having a list of questions, and the 3 discussed what types of needs would be imminent as well as possible legal protections and repercussions. Satisfied, she and Tia left the building. "You know that you are going to have to march over to UNM tomorrow and register for classes, right?" Jane grudgingly agreed.

The next morning, a fresh Jane was as ready as she could be to 'march over to UNM' given the circumstances. She had brought her scooter and navigated as best she could at this new, bigger university. She was a bit hesitant to be in public for fear others would recognize her the way she was recognized by her interviewers at the School of Psych.

The only looks she received, however, were looks of interest from men – Jane had re-learned to detect as much after… _Yes, after Charles. There I said it,_ Jane realized, inwardly. She found the Career Center, met the requisite helpful faculty, performed the tests* and awaited the printout. Jane was no longer so naïve as to believe it would hold her new destiny, like some fortune told by a mechanical gypsy*.

When she received the printout, Jane realized how eager she was to read the list of prospective careers given her interests, aptitude, education, and experience.* Many were of little interest to her and none were exactly the life saving vocation. However, an amorphous idea previously pushed back in her mind was now beginning to take on a clearer form in terms of education and career path. Having not previously considered it, Jane was now trying to decide whether to take a track that could enable her to do some kind of other therapeutic work where her new infamy would not be a barrier.

She remembered the Art Therapy she had taken herself while in the hospital. Again Jane's mind turned to that photographer who helped women feel better about themselves through photographing their own images. Jane decided to check out both the Communications Major and the Art School.

Not without some chagrin, Jane also realized that a less arduous- but still possibly risky- means of finishing her degree would be to simply stand up to the School of Psychology. It would mean being in more contact with some of the people who knew her 'secret', but maybe it was necessary to do for others what… _that man… Charles_ …. Had done for her. She had to stand up to them. She had to believe in herself just like Charles had shown her she could do.

Yes, it was true.

She couldn't help but thank him. Again and again that day she realized how, although she might have to change her major, she had newly identified self assurance that would serve, no matter the direction she took. Jane found that she was no longer uncomfortable someone appreciated her beauty. She knew there was more substance within herself than that; she also felt more beautiful within herself. Charles helped her find the spark but her flame burned from within.

Instead of waiting around any longer, she consulted with the available faculty to further discuss her results. After some cursory conversation about her possibilities, Jane felt the kindly gentleman to be an understanding sort, and she appreciated his sharing of specific information such as the job market for prospective careers and the local salary for the alternates, in case Jane was unable to convince the School with her arguments.

* * *

She took the information given and used it to draft a letter:

 _Dear Dr _,_

 _After thinking over your concerns over ethics, I am satisfied to answer them._

 _I am not ashamed of the work that has been made of me; I am proud and grateful for the opportunity._

 _My dear friend captured beauty that I previously hadn't realized within myself. Isn't that what the work of therapy with clients seeks to do?_

 _This situation has caused me no little concern over how these pictures might affect my ability to practice in the future. However, if a school, employer or client finds me less of a professional because of this, perhaps the issue is not in my decision, but simply the choice of that entity or individual not to see new ways of being that incorporate the whole person._

 _My new position has given rise to my researching the career that could truly do for others what my friend did for me. As such, I plan to go on to use creative arts therapies for clients in need of a healing point of view that helps them see their own beauty. It would make my schooling more efficient to continue in your department._

 _However, if you have objections, I have already spoken with two other schools and they have none. I assure you that I am fully prepared to handle whatever might come my way in terms of inquiries about my modeling work. I have employed a lawyer for just such a purpose who will further advise me. Thank you for your consideration in this matter._

 _Sincerely,_  
 _Jane Bennet_

She printed out the letter and took it to the department advisor.

* * *

"I ask that you read this and understand that time is of the essence."

He took a cursory glance at it and murmured that he would make some calls and get back to her by close of business today. She was scared of the possibility of failure, exhilarated that she had at last stood up for herself. At her characteristic slow pace, it took Jane some time to navigate the crowded maze of a building to her scooter.

By the time she got on it, her cell went off. The advisor told her that they would allow her to continue with her major but wanted her and her lawyer to meet with them and a draft a statement in case there were any further inquiries. With her time limited, Jane took the rest of the registration period to complete her choices and entered the semester in an entirely different manner than she had intended just days prior. 

* * *

In the subsequent days, Jane enjoyed what she could of the city environment, having found a work study job selling supplies in the Art department which added inspiration and a little spending money in her pocket. Time passed more quickly than she could have imagined but days were kept full between getting adjusted to advanced coursework in a new school, working part time, and helping with the Gardiner kids. Jane also noticed the time as it related to her absence from Charles.

She forced herself to contact Charles and they made arrangements for meetings with buyers. Many of them had been busy people who spent significant time out of the area and so their schedules were not immediately clear. Upon the first encounter, Jane was shocked when the patron not only remarked with great enthusiasm at being able to meet the model but asked her the favor of seeing her scar. Jane had not believed Charles and the lawyer when they had suggested this could be a possibility but was thankful she'd rehearsed a response. This response had been predetermined for her own future interests rather than a rash decision and Jane was gratified that the patron respected her answer in the negative.

She also found hope that, not only would she see more success out of her injury, others were most interested in seeing it, knowing more about it. Not one to revel in her own story alone, Jane hoped this would provide more of a way for others in her position to speak in their own voice, communicate in their own bodies. Her hope and dream continued to be unformed and strong. The lure of more income and publicity to further her dreams was enticing, but Jane resisted Charles's very timid suggestion that they could continue to partner together to create more portraits and photographs.

They had instead arranged for a limited set of giclees to be made of the existing images. Jane did not want to be overly known but appreciated the sincere interest and income these generated. She was not as pleased with the nagging feelings every time Charles was around. And he found plenty of reasons to do so. Every hint of a purchase would induce him to text her. When a purchase and meeting were set, he would call her about every detail.

When Jane complained to her Aunt, Lena just chuckled, "Pobrecita. Working for a living is so hard when you have a handsome man who is at your beck and call trying to please you and woo you. What is he to you but a fly? Have some pity on the man and tell him once and for all YES or NO. Don't you see that he is trying to make you happy and show that he will never again do anything behind your back? You have him trained. I would not be so blasé about losing him. Besides, you're still keeping that locket. I think you know what the answer is to your problem. I don't know why you're wasting your time talking to me."

This prodding induced the silent treatment for a day or so while Jane pouted and thought about what her Aunt had suggested. She considered asking Lizzy her opinion but didn't want to trouble her sister with stories about Darcy's friend. When they spoke, Jane only shared highlights of what had happened and tried to seem in control of the situation. She was tired of Lizzy taking care of her and wanted to take care of this one on her own. Lizzy sounded so tired and she deserved to focus on herself for once.

Jane had been so consumed with her problems, also, for once, she didn't realize that her mother didn't once call in hysterics, nor did she get any wry calls from her father or any other family member. Normally under the circumstances one would think her family would react. This was one case where the lawyers acted quickly once they were retained. They called the Bennets who had only that day heard from a friend about a picture in a local magazine that looked like Jane.

The Bennets thought it a coincidence until the lawyers called. The magazine hadn't put the woman's name in and the lawyers suggested that they continue to act as if this were a coincidence and otherwise deflect any questions that came their way.

For once Francesca (who was shocked) listened to her husband and did, in fact, deflect curiosity with a skill no one would have believed. When Jane eventually learned what her parents went through and what her mother had done, she was partially mortified for her parents but also secretly a little amused at rebelling against her mother, something she'd never sought out to do. Francesca had never quite understood her daughter since the accident and she thought that perhaps Jane had gotten hit in the head to make such a decision as to pose nude for portraits. As such, she inwardly assumed the whole ordeal somehow wasn't really her fault at all. And anyway, it was a little gratifying that her poor disabled daughter was a little famous and also that she was considered beautiful.

Edward was beginning to regret the extent of his indolence. Francesca always was so in charge, and he was always so consumed with research and classes. He managed to find the most threatening way possible to deflect questions about whether that picture was his daughter. No one had to ask him twice- and yet the answer the curious received would be ambiguous enough to afford their eternal curiosity, a fate Edward hoped on them for all his own suffering.

*IE the Strong Interest Inventory- a career interest assessment 

* * *

Colossal Girl

Jane did not have long to mope, or pout, or whatever she was doing, before Charles called her yet again. The man called several times a day now. Impatient with herself, with him, with her Aunt, with the situation…. She erupted.

"What is it this time? Has someone has called to inquire about one of the pieces. Let me guess, it's that piece with me on the table. And the man is fascinated with my scar and wants to see it. But, he's a busy man so we'll have to wait until it is convenient for him. And in the meantime you will call me with the most miniscule detail such as if the man catches a cold! You know what will happen next? When I get off the phone Tia will chastise me about how rude I was to my business partner and remind me how I have to work for my income! Then in a day or so you will find some superass lame excuse to spend time with me, like going over the contract AGAIN or looking at negatives or some bullshit. And I will be irritated about going and about my Aunt and then I'll go and have a good time and be irritated about that! You make me so angry Charles Bingley! You have turned my world, my plans, my identity upside down! I hate that when I think something well of myself now I have to give you credit, just the same as when I realize I'm not so trusting now it's because of what I learned after YOU! It's all just as well since things can't go back they may as well go forward. Are you going to ask me to move in already or not? Because we may as well.

I am not going to go through the whole cliche melodrama of giving you a chance to respect my boundaries because I won't or you won't or we will and it will be perfect. I don't know anymore! So when are you coming over to pick up my trailer of stuff? And, by the way, I haven't decided when we are fucking yet because I am still furious with you!"

Charles had the patience to withstand her tirade, and his reward for doing so felt incongruous. He was not one to question the gift of such an opportunity however. He was over to the Gardiners in 30 minutes and they had moved in every last ceramic figurine, every makeup brush, even the pair of sneakers Jane always forgot in the utility room- every bit of Jane was now inhabiting Charles's house- and he liked it that way.

If only she would start thinking of it as theirs. Well, having her stuff around was a start.

It had been awkward trying to decide where to put her things- in the end her volume of clothing required the guest closet and her linens were dusty from being used to cushion breakables on the last minute move. She decided to settle between both rooms.

Charles didn't know whether he would be more damned to celebrate her moving in or to act as if it were normal. In the end, he decided on treating her like a princess in case doing nothing was the wrong answer. As she had been of late, Jane initially made a funny face when she saw him emerge from the kitchen with a tray and ice bucket. It didn't stop her from tasting her favorite, bread, brie and lavender jelly, or from eating a few truffles. She wasn't in the mood for Champagne, asking instead for a tea latte which Charles eagerly made. Charles decided to put away the Champagne and got himself a bottle of Strongbow* instead. As she ate, Jane seemed to relax.

He took it as a cue, because Charles knew, as much as he wanted Jane in his life, he could not live on eggshells forever. They needed to face things. "So what do we do next? I don't want to be on eggshells, I don't want you to be afraid of me, either."

"Well, feeding me was a start".She answered, between bites.

"So, would you like me to start a bath, brush your hair, lay out your nightshift my lady?" He only half teased.

Jane sighed, reflecting for a moment, then answered, "I don't know what I want. I'm going to get mad sometimes. I'm going to be depressed other times. I hope I'll go back to being Jane. You've given me more self certainty and less certainty of what I'm going to do about it. I know I needed the former but I'm not so sure about the latter. You still look fucking hot, especially when you are moving my furniture and making me food. I miss you drawing me. I miss working together. I'm here because I plan on staying as long as we both keep trying hard not to fuck up like we did before. Our heads were NOT screwed on straight. I figure, why wait for this bit when I know it's going to end up this way? So, let's split rent, I'll buy my own food and you buy yours."

"You can't, well not exactly." Charles looked sheepish. "Before you get mad it's not what you think. I got a good deal on this when it came on the market a few years back and kept using big checks to help pay it down. I lived on ramen and leftover gallery food at times when jobs didn't roll in quickly after, but it felt good to be paying down the principle so fast. Now that we've split those other big checks that just came in, at the rate I'm going, it's going to be paid off in a couple of years. So, you're welcome to pay half of expenses, but I plan on this house being my studio when I'm done. It's part of my business so it doesn't make sense for you to do much more than pay some expenses like additional utilities and changes you want to make for your living needs. If you really want to talk business tonight we can call our lawyers but can we just wait until tomorrow when we've had some sleep?"

"OK. Only if you hold me until I go to sleep."

"Uh, which bed are you going to be in?" Charles waited to flinch.

"Yours." She looked at him quizzically when Charles flinched anyway. He had been expecting a tirade. He shrugged his shoulders. They sat in awkward silence for a beat.

He then had the presence of mind to ask "Which bed am I going to be in?"

She laughed and playfully slapped him on the knee. "Silly!"

"Alright!" He cheered, pulling her up. When they got settled in bed Charles looked at her with a mixture of hopefulness and tentativeness. She knew what his unspoken question was, and knew he didn't know whether he was even supposed to ask it, or if she would get mad if he didn't ask.

She put him out of his misery, only a little: "Only holding."

"Alright." He wrapped his arms around her. "Can I hold your…"

"Don't push your luck." Jane turned out the light and shifted, pulling his arms tighter and they lazily drifted towards dreamland.

"Jane?" He whispered.

"Yes, baby?" Her voice was relaxed and tired.

"I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you never returned the locket." He felt her smile in the darkness.

* * *

remember, reviews will get you an extra about what Darcy has been up to! 

We will be getting back to ODG, at any rate, very soon.


	23. Chapter 23

a little more ODC2 and then back to Lizzy.

I forgot to mention: I have references to various cultures in this story which are part of New Mexico culture- specifically the varieties of Hispanic cultures represented. I used the Spanglish that I know- all with a hint of New Mexico quirkiness. Gas Food Lodging is a perfect representation of what it was like to grow up in Southern NM in the 80s.

If anyone sees a misuse of the Spanish/Spanglish or feels I am representing anything in a way that is disrespectful, stereotypical or otherwise inaccurate, let me know. I will respond, and depending on the dialogue/feedback may change it.

I grew up with these cultures and love them. To me, being New Mexican is being immersed in farming/ranching culture, the arts, as well as the many Native/Indian (many prefer to be called Indian), Spanish, Mexican American, and Mexican (among so many others)! And this is one of the things I seek to convey and represent in my P and P fanfics.

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

* * *

Mr November

In the midst of continuing her course work, Jane and Charles were able to come to an agreement about their cohabitation. Charles showed her his statements where the house was part of his business investment, being that a portion of it was gallery space and another portion of it was his studio. After seeing how he had payed down his investment and taking a look at her own income from sales of 'their' work, she calculated living expenses and college costs with the help of her Uncle Gardiner.

Even after paying rent to Charles, Jane had a good portion of money left over to start paying off student loans. She liked her work study job and continued to use that income for spending money. Jane felt good to be making these practical decisions and at least one good thing came of her 'outing'.

The couple had also made a few other decisions: First, they would not make any more pictures of Jane until she was done with her degree, or in the event that Jane somehow used it to further her degree.

Second, the spare bedroom was made up and Jane would decide each night where she would sleep. More often than not, the spare bedroom remained unused. Jane had bouts where she would need alone time but generally would return to 'their' room to sleep. Charles had been left shell shocked and it took him several weeks to initiate anything sexual. Jane's propensities relegated this need to an occurrence of a few times a week, far less than when they had previously cohabited.

Tension was running high and he even looked forward to his morning 'alone time' when Jane went off to school and he was left to paint or do whatever else he needed to do. Had he known Jane's own desires, Charles would have taken matters into his hands differently and sooner.

As it was, mundane conflicts challenged them. Decisions remained to be made. Who decides to do what for their date night? Which acquaintances were to be pursued to friendship? Which friendships were now best left to the past? (mostly relating to Charles's circle as he had more attachments in the area than did Jane). How much and what was said about their relationship to whom in their families?

Both tired of working through these matters and it showed. Jane was unsurprisingly more discreet about their relationship than Charles and became proportionately upset if others were invading their space. On one such occasion, Caroline, who still had keys to her brother's place, let herself in. Jane, already shocked to find Caroline in their kitchen, became lived after a blasé comment about Jane's 'just had sex' hair.

Thus started yet another 'episode', as Charles started calling them. Caroline had guessed more than Charles told but he had was in trouble nonetheless. It took considerable effort and explanation before Jane was at any semblance of peace about the matter. Yet another person about whom the couple shared considerable conflict was Darcy. Jane held conflicting emotions about him; he had hurt Elizabeth. But Elizabeth had hurt him, Charles argued.

Darcy had known about the artists coming over and hadn't said anything to Charles or to Jane, at least Jane had thought. Charles clarified the mistake was that of Caro's boyfriend Mike_, who had stupidly let the photographer into his locked studio.

Then Charles explained more fully the considerable effort Darcy had spent trying to redirect people at Opening Night, at no little expense to Darcy's own relationship with Lizzy, apparently from Charles's second hand telling of it. He also had explained Darcy's reserve toward Jane in the beginning. Darcy had warned Charles to have her sign a contract before things got too far and Darcy was afraid of how things would turn out.

This reserve did not signify to Jane; however, she really in the end could not fault Charles's friend, realizing that she was also reserved and discreet. How many things had she warned Lizzy of regarding Darcy himself, and didn't these things cause Jane to be reserved around a man who hurt, and was hurt by, her own sister?

As exhausting as their conflicts were, the couple slowly worked through their issues, effecting greater harmony and many passionate 'make up' sessions.

By semester's end, Jane found surprisingly few inquiries to bother her in or out of school, but remained cautious. She was steadfast in completing her Bachelor's as planned but her stint in the art department made her curious about the possibility of Art Therapy. She had looked into the requirements which wouldn't affect her course of study now. Her extra curricular crafts with Lizzy and the costume shop job would be handy for the program's portfolio needs, but Jane would have to reconsider what types of artistic work she wanted to pursue on an ongoing basis.

She wanted to do something for others, something like Charles had done for her, and realized she'd need to garner more skill from somewhere. Discussing the possibilities with Charles helped ease her mind- she could work with him, Darcy, even Caroline to learn and hone her skills. Even without the need to augment her school schedule, Jane was facing summer school this year and next, with full loads the following semesters, in order to graduate in a little over a year. She was soon immersed in a schedule laden with studies at school and in Charles's studio.

Her energies were also put to use for Lizzy's benefit, sending frequent and varied correspondence. A brief break between spring and summer sessions enabled her to finally enjoy some fruits of her labor with Charles. Concern over Lizzy was the cloud over her respite. While things were finally becoming easier with Charles, Jane now had another worry as she spent as much time as she was able, corresponding with her sister, planning for the few days they would spend together this summer.

* * *

U. R. A Fever

While Jane had been grappling with her surprises early in the Spring semester, Lizzy had found her own with which to contend and just at a time that she had hoped her plans would fall into place. She had worked hard to produce an impressive portfolio in case it was requested. Her resume was also refined to perfection and sent to several prestigious and artistically satisfying regional summer festivals. She had been chosen for the Santa Fe Opera and also had opportunity to go to _ Shakespeare festival in Colorado. Lizzy figured one summer in Colorado was enough and looked forward to a prestigious, rigorous and fulfilling summer stitching in Santa Fe near her dearest relations. Everything was in order for her summer.

Lizzy moped her way through the Spring semester, working as hard as usual but mentally and emotionally she was not as into her projects. Still Maeve and her art Professors noticed the change in her work. Gone were the neoclassical references and fusion of heirloom and found objects into her work. It was replaced by an almost severe attention to craftsmanship and conservative- if still clever- interpretations of assignments. Lizzy's hand was becoming neater but her mind was clearly not as engaged in detailed concepts as previously.

No, she was otherwise occupied. Not only was Lizzy looking forward to seeing certain people, she also struggled with who else might be there. She hoped Darcy had stayed in New York and that he would not be returning to the Pemberley Studio branch in Santa Fe. That was one person she looked forward to seeing. Her mind had made a slip again, and Lizzy didn't like it _. No! I am NOT looking forward to seeing that man! It would be just my luck if he were doing a stint there!_ Anyway, she was hoping to check out an artist's colony there, possibly get accepted to study, or at least scrape together enough to participate in some workshops.

Even though Darcy's letter had enlightened her further on Wickham's issues, the nature of Darcy's lack of support for Wickham and Jorge's relationship, it did not bring Lizzy any closer to reconciling with Darcy. She had never again sought him out during the end of the Fall semester while he was here, nor had he done for her.

Why, then should she seek him out come summer? Lizzy presumed he was with the family in Santa Fe, New York, or wherever it was the hipster elite went to holiday. He was always at the back of her mind, infecting her thoughts, her consciousness, not that she'd admit it.

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Lizzy fought to see that these plans made would not be summarily unraveled as others had been before. _This can't happen_ , she thought, daily as she began to feel fatigued the week after spring break. Every day seemed a greater effort to get up. Lizzy assumed it was merely her schedule, having just finished assistant designing the last production of the year, the annual traveling school production, a retelling of the Children of Lir.

Her worrying mother actually noticed Lizzy 'did not look right' and insisted she needed to see the doctor. Francesca didn't stop nagging Lizzy until she saw the doctor, who gratified Francesca's motherly intuition by pronouncing Lizzy to be coming down with mononucleosis. Lizzy was less than pleased and believed none of it. She continued the frenetic pace, studying and working on art projects for another week or so until one morning when she was so weak, walking across the room winded her. _Maybe the doctor and my mom were right._

And so the next 6 weeks was spent in a fevered oblivion. Her mind was restless but her body, disobedient. So unfettered from rational thought and too tired to even speak very much in those early days, Lizzy felt a mad hermit and wondered if this state would last forever. Jane was busy finishing her own semester and could not come until the end. Aunt Magdalena's business was such that she could not get down. Both Jane and Lena sent copious emails, and a few care packages most of which went unacknowledged for many weeks, fatigued as Lizzy was, initially.

What was worse at day became better often at night. In some form a guide taking Darcy's voice, features and presence would grace her dreams. They did different things but were always in the same dreamlandscape. Lizzy found an inner space that she could navigate, and when waking Lizzy could have mapped this place, which was a convergence of places she'd been and those where she wished she could be. Sometimes he was a secondary character, other times Darcy was her romantic hero once again.

Whether the dreams were disturbing or inspiring, she would awake feeling some sense of having completed a great task. Lizzy decided these were important to take down, and began to voice record her recollections, as writing or typing was still too much. He was the thread of a subconscious companion in her life, more constant than anyone else at the moment. He was a comfort to her, especially when some nights her dreams had a more frightening prelude, a seemingly waking dream of a woman floating above her bed, just staring at her as if in judgment, eerie bells clamoring with unearthly, familiar tones. She would awake with a start, and then fall asleep, hearing his whisper in her ear that he would protect her.

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In between her dreams, Lizzy had to fill the time largely on her own. Maeve who had planned to go to Santa Fe Opera all along, was there and would call Lizzy for brief updates. Maeve was too busy for longer calls, and Lizzy, too headachy. Theirs was a mutual understanding. Maeve tried to keep the conversation light, regaling her of a volunteer mispronouncing tricot lame or of her fellow draper who danced around the shop imitating Fred from the B-52's. Lizzy could tell Maeve missed her but would never say so. In return Lizzy would exaggerate a life of luxurious indolence with muscled men fanning her and feeding her grapes.

Charlotte came over whenever she could, but the nature of her studies took her across the region on a weekly basis: Charlotte worked intensively to finally complete her thesis and had to travel to various locales nearby for her research. Although some friends stayed away for fear of the contagion, Charlotte did not. Having already experienced the virus early in her childhood, Charlotte was unafraid of being infected by her friend and visited as frequently as she was able. At any rate, she took pains not to share anything that could transmit the virus. She and Lizzy would tease about her not taking a drink and having to put on her face mask, but it didn't keep customary intimacies of friendship from being shared.

On one of her visits, Charlotte had confided to Lizzy the reason for her frenetic pace; she was pregnant and wanted to be through her most rigorous work while she felt good. She was very close to finishing her thesis. Now, with Fitzwilliam projected to leave Fort Bliss in the fall, Charlotte and he hoped that she would be able to find a post doc residency near his next base assignment, likely instructing at another base back east. Due to his status, had been previously offered a more stationary post and now that he had a reason to stay put, he intended to do so. Fort Bliss* just wasn't the right place for either of them to find what they needed career-wise.

Charlotte never not come to visit her friend empty handed, nor would she come merely to share her own news. Charlotte regularly insisted on painting Lizzy's nails (something Lizzy had previously disdained but now it felt good to be tended and Charlotte had an eye for her odd tastes, painting her nails black with calacas and marigolds). On another occasion, Charlotte brought home roasted coffee and served it with home made muffins or doughnuts fresh from the bakery, never eating any herself, careful to keep the mask on. Sometimes Charlotte would just bring new yarn since Lizzy found making a simple afghan to be therapeutic and not too hard on the eyes. She supposed this afghan was going to be enormous and colorful.

Lizzy was thankful for the sensible conversation with her dear friend but exhausted by the exertion. It was likely she was also fatigued with the thought of yet another dear 'sister' leaving. Every time she visited, plans progressed and this reality became ever greater. These thoughts swirled through her mind and sometimes engulfed her senses when she had 'bad' days, causing Lizzy to feel she would never get better again. Other than Charlotte, Lizzy was weary of the attentions given and craving for that which she could not have. At least he tended to her in dreams.

*mononucleosis is highly contagious spread by bodily fluids from my understanding. Her symptoms are identical to what I had in high school, so that is what reference I have.

*Fort Bliss- army base in El Paso Tx

* * *

One, Two Three, Four

As if to complete a sort of circle from her childhood to Jane's illness and back, Aunt Phil was often the one family member to check on her. Francesca, it seemed, was too busy with 4-H projects yet again, preparing to go – who knows where- with a group this time. Even though they resided in the same house, Lizzy didn't see her mother as often as her aunt. Besides, Francesca said her nerves could not take another daughter being so ill.

Aunt Phil was not one to disappoint in the gifts department- a tie dyed scarf she'd made, a miniature rose plant from the local nursery, a funny Frida Kahlo card, or more skeins of yarn were thoughtful little distractions which went far for Lizzy. She couldn't be blamed, however for her continued fatigue, or even that she was falling asleep when her aunt's attentions became too much.

Lizzy sent cursory replies to Jane, not wanting her sister to worry over her overmuch. Jane was worried but so entrenched in projects that Tia Lena convinced her the biggest help she could be to her sister is to do what Lizzy wanted her to do and go forward with her life. As hard as it was for Jane to get so little response, she kept her correspondence cheerful. How Lizzy wanted Jane, and how Lizzy also wanted Jane to be happy and start living her life. Tia Lena was right. It was strange for both sisters to feel their relationship in a sort of holding pattern, but Lizzy was generally less aware as she was too ill to think on it much.

Daddy's lack of time could not be helped, apparently, due to completing the last month of school. What excuse he had in the weeks afterward, Lizzy wasn't sure. She assumed his reasons needn't have been examined according to Daddy, because daily he would bring her presents she coveted, like another Amazon or Itunes gift card, or even an odd antique edition of Frankenstein to help her 'stay cultured' while she convalesced

Lizzy was glad Mary was too busy with Collins and their 'save the world' campaigning that she didn't actually have time to save her sister. Mary always spouted some dogma or other, and with the self important Collins, it was only worse. Her sister had a good heart, but she was also tiresome- not what Lizzy needed at the moment. It seemed most convenient that Mary and Collins seemed to finally work things out just after the Netherfield party.

As for her siblings, Kitty was so enjoying her continued fair princess responsibilities that she had little time for her sister. At least the times Kitty was at home, she and Mary would pop in and get Lizzy whatever she wanted, even making trips to the store for things that would add to her comfort. No doubt having access to the car was convenient, but if they stayed out a little longer than it normally took to drive to Circle K, Lizzy couldn't tell, distorted as was her sense of time.

And whatever had become of Lydon, no one would say. At first, Lizzy had not noticed, because she hardly noticed anything. However, when her state of mind was righted, she feared asking, not wanting to upset what seeming peace afforded by her quasi solitude.

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Progressing steadily in her now part time convalescence, she was able to spend more and more time each week in physical activity which allowed her to resume what semblance of normal family life she'd once known. She started by picking up assignments from her incomplete classes, working a couple of hours at a time at home until slowly, she was caught up.

She continued to bear the lack of visits with equanimity because she was so thoroughly reveling in being able to resume her propensity to pore over extra projects she'd abandoned when she'd gotten so sick. She had a tatted underpinning that she was proud to say looked straight out of the flapper era. She hand finished a cloche hat started in April. The portfolio was updated again. She perused the sparse journals for any more summer gigs that weren't clearly desperate and miserable. She was too proud to call and ask Maeve if the needed a volunteer at Santa Fe. She was also too proud to tell Jane of how she needed her sister. Instead Lizzy filled emails with details about her projects. Jane responded in kind and the sisters developed a new depth of correspondence on the subject of lace. They laughed at themselves, often quoting Daddy who once had yelled to Mamma: "No more lace!" after a particularly trying Fair Queen season.

The busyness felt like hollow satisfaction but she was now single minded in her goal to take care of her affairs, as no one else had done so. Her family's goings on would, and did, continue without her until she had that sense of stamina to endure whatever drama came her way. When Lizzy was finally feeling closer to fine, she quizzed Mary and Kitty and got answers. At least what answers could be had.

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From her sisters, she gathered that sometime, while she was sick, seemingly the eve of her illness or thereabouts, Lydon had gotten so mad at his father that he almost threw a punch at him. Surprisingly, Wickham was there and had physically redirected him from coming to blows. Because the family felt Wickham had been such a fine example for Lydon, Mom and Daddy agreed that they could stay in the apartment behind the Phillips's store and would pay for the pleasure.

Lizzy wondered what levels the Daddy-Lydon conflict had reached to get to the point that Lydon could be financially backed to run away. She wondered why they were essentially paying Wickham to be Lydon's sitter and considered the odd feeling in her stomach was not likely to be from her illness anymore. Her instincts were reminding her of Darcy's letter. She hadn't even considered those parts before, and a foreboding washed over her. How had she allowed it to pass? A Jane- like lapse, believing that Wickham had come here to make a fresh start, she hoped the appearance of her family' benefit was authentic.

There was surely not going to ever be a 'right' time to discuss these concerns with her parents, as far as they were concerned. Undeterred, she took up the matter with her father anyway. His response only deepened her concern. Daddy refused to discuss the matter because he and Mother were at odds about what to do with Lydon. The only thing they agreed was that Wickham was the only stabilizing factor in his life right now. She hoped her mother would see reason, but was not surprised that she didn't.

Francesca assured Lizzy in an aside that 'the boys' were well taken care of because she saw to it herself that they had enough money for food. It was only right, Francesca reasoned, that they have enough for good healthy meals and enough to 'splurge'. Lizzy didn't want to ask any further.

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Instead she made an excuse to pay her brother a call one day when she was at the General Store. She found it suspicious that the two men were thinner than ever while they were supposed to be eating well. Their small apartment was clean, however, and adequately furnished, and they made her feel quite at home.

Upon leaving, Lizzy asked Lydon to come inside and help her find something in the store. Wickham, uninterested in leaving the apartment, mercifully stayed behind. Lizzy asked Lydon if he could remember where Aunt Phil had stocked the parasols (although she knew very well where they were) and as he helped her search, Lizzy made sure to tell her brother to call her if he ever needed anything.

"Geez, Lizzy, why on earth would I need to do a thing like that? I couldn't be better now that I'm away from Daddy. In fact, I am quite proud of myself, making my own way and moving out before all of you! I am an independent man!"

It was all Lizzy could do to keep from rolling her eyes, knowing very well Lydon was 'earning' his money because Mamma was basically bribing him to stay in school instead of dropping out. He had already stopped all of his rodeo and FFA activities outside of school, a worrying turn of events.

Lizzy tried to encourage him to come out and ride with her or to at least attend the FFA State contest in the summer, but Lydon again pooh poohed her suggestions. "I have no time for that. I'm moving up in the world! I have me some new grown up friends and we have a good time together. I happen to be very popular; Wickham has introduced me around. We are far too busy going to El Paso as much as we can, clubbing."

"Lydon, don't you think you're a little young for that sort of thing? I know it's fun to go to clubs underage. I won't bother being hypocritical and acting like Jane and I are innocent; we did too. But we still kept up with school, 4-H, and we had LIVES outside of the clubs. We never drank when we were underage and we always avoided meeting people there because they were older."

"You wouldn't understand the kind of life I live." Lydon looked on the verge of tears but Lizzy knew by his expression that he was digging in, refusing to say anymore on the subject.

Frustrated, She wavered on whether to suggest what she believed for fear it would drive Lydon away, rather than bring them closer. "I love you little brother; all I want is for you to be safe and healthy," was all she could manage to say before pulling him into a hug.

"I can't be something I'm not." Lydon whispered.

Wickham appeared with the parasols and Lizzy noticed a look pass between the two. Wickham furrowed his brow and Lizzy could have sworn he mouthed " I told you so" but when she tried to elicit further conversation, the topic was summarily changed to the parasols. Making one last attempt at eliciting conversation to show her support, she made small comments about how much she loved it when a certain drag queen wore a parasol at a show she'd gone to. The two men just glowered at her. Giving up, Lizzy bought a parasol, then left.

The Bennet family continued as if their lives were normal, with Kitty being her mother's sole focus as she prepared her multitude of projects for county contest and they attended all the fair queen activities. Kitty thrived under her mother's tutelage.

Mary was relieved that her mother had for once stopped hounding her. She was more than content to tend to their garden through its growing season while she and Collins's overbearing conversations were now often the source of Mr Bennet's dinner entertainment. Once at dinner he whispered to Lizzy that Collins would be a creditable son in law now that the usual token amusement wasn't around. She was done playing comedy partner and now found her father's sarcasm to be a defense of his own worries; a way to avoid dealing with them when books failed.

Yet again her family had alternately been supportive to her in their own ways, or turned away from her because of their own concerns. Lizzy held these grievances in her heart and tried to make peace with them, within herself. She made little progress with either, feeling at times that she was merely digging deeper, the more she tried to make sense of her family, or of Darcy.

His insight about her family rang true. When she'd needed them most, they'd treated her the same as they'd done Jane- leaving her largely to fend for herself, just as they'd done when she'd declared her new major. Darcy was right- without Jane here, it seemed there was no Bennet with whom she could really share her ideas and feelings. Lizzy felt rather than allowed herself to acknowledge that before things went wrong, she had begun to share these things with _him._ She couldn't allow herself to miss him. He was already gone.

* * *

thank you all for your continued reviews, follows and for reading my story :)

I look forward to hearing from you- hint hint :)


	24. Chapter 24

Meralien caught my misspelling biscochos a couple chapters back: thanks for the heads up, and for all the reviews! And, thank you everyone else for the reviews- you are so kind.

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

we get some ODC and - next chapter- some M stuff (waggles eyebrows)

* * *

Now Welcome Summer

In June, when Lizzy went to the Dr for tests, he proclaimed her largely improved. She felt better, too. Not that she looked much better, Lizzy lamented to herself, but was at least glad to be able to _do_ things. Besides, that afghan was easily king sized, now, and she had finally grown tired of her 'craftsmanship stage' as she now was calling it.

She had long since send them her apologies with an explanation and asking them to please consider her again when she was improved. Lizzy was now in better spirits than weeks ago, and supposed she might be able to inquire as to the need for stitchers later in the season, if she continued feeling better, but that was not to be. No sooner had she become emboldened to this step than did her Tia and Uncle invite her for a trip.

Lizzy then felt obliged to accept their invitation to go to Sedona. The Gardiners had planned long ago to go to Sedona that summer. They thoroughly enjoyed such a locale as the desert was a favorite with the couple. Lena had the ability to finance whatever spiritual experience she desired although in reality had little true need to do so. She already possessed within herself the practice and ability to be adequate for her own enlightenment as well as that of her loved ones. Nonetheless her prosperity afforded such luxuries of inspiration that she enjoyed spending her time and money on Sedona's signature resort spirituality.

This summer they planned to stay at Rosings Spa and Artists Colony, having heard of its pleasures from none other than Charles's sister when she was over at Christmas. Lizzy was invited along to convalesce and take in some workshops which were put on by Catalina and other well known artists and gurus. Lizzy accepted, remembering Caroline's condescending suggestion that Catalina's workshops would do her good.

The experience of anticipation warred with her disdain for entitled art- that which was bought rather than suffered to obtain. Lizzy hoped rather than felt with any certainty that she could keep her countenance when that pseudo spiritual ridiculousness reared its head. Still, she couldn't help but pin the brochure to her inspiration board and was known by no one but herself to take it down and browse through it daily.

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By the time Lizzy drove herself to her Aunt and Uncle's Albuquerque home, she was feeling much stronger, more confident, now that she had gotten her weight back down and had a little color. She had earlier that month resumed her daily walks as well as riding Eos. Even so, Lizzy felt self conscious of the continued evidence of her illness- skin eruptions and her chipmunk cheeks which, although less pronounced, persisted.

Before she left, Charlotte made one last visit and indulged her friend with new skin care and makeup products and some supplements she'd gotten on advice from her midwife friend. At least these seemed to help by both addressing the root of the problem with her skin and also providing cosmetic illusion to refine the color, shape and texture of her face. _At least I am presentable and wearing my regular clothes, and I am feeling healthy again_ , she thought. She felt petty- like her mother- to even care about her looks when she had experienced the throes of her own illness, knowing some people continued to suffer its effects years later.* Upon considering how much Jane had dealt with, Lizzy repressed any further sense of vanity about her own illness.

 _It didn't matter how good she was,_ Lizzy reasoned, _she never was, never would, be in his league._ She would do better to think on higher things, maybe take on someone else's philosophy of love for an example. It wouldn't be the ridiculous sense of mission like her sister Mary, nor the injured optimism of Jane.

Her thoughts turned to Tia Lena. Society remained both accepting and prejudiced of marriages of wealthy, older men to younger women from other countries. The two had made a brilliant love match however, and their thriving businesses and families were evidence of this. _Yes but Uncle wasn't the arrogant ass like other men!_ She further debated, inwardly.

Her 'other' side conceded this point and went on to consider the match of Charlotte with a certain arrogant ass's cousin. He was rather confident, yet more personable than Darcy. Now, Charlotte was closer to herself in age, and she had worked very hard to have her own career, on her own terms. She seemed to effortlessly navigate her goals, love life and family. Far from being the 'cowboy', Richard also didn't fit their familys' ideas of the 'right' kind of man for their girls. He obviously came from that same Ivy League family full of artists, writers, thespians, patrons, and political figures that rivaled that Camelot family in distinction if not in scandal or level of wealth. _No, that young woman from an old farm family was noble but not of the same cloth as that man. And now they were having a baby together, a life together._

These thoughts were enough to put herself off the debate altogether and Lizzy focused the rest of her drive on the desert scenery and anticipating the workshops she'd attend. She conveniently ignored a certain teacher she feared who was on that list as an 'unconfirmed'.

Lizzy replaced any further inner dialogue with platitudes such as _'focus on the goal; my health is the priority and I will not be hasty in any relationships any more'; 'I am fulfilled by my family and by seeking meaning. I don't need a man to be fulfilled'._ Of course these ideas, while worthy, were not work hardened enough. They needed a working over.

Upon arrival to the Gardiner's home, Lizzy was immensely pleased to see her dearest Jane waiting there. The two embraced warmly, as tears ran down both their faces. Lena restrained her young children from getting in the way of their reunion until Lettie exclaimed "Mama! Why should I wait to hug her? Look how much they are crying! It's not like they're asking us for privacy or anything; they need our love! It makes no sense to keep from hugging someone I love when they're crying!" Lettie proceeded to embrace her two still crying cousins, causing the two to cry harder, and one by one the entire Gardiner family embraced until the family was a mass of swaying crying relations.

Charles who was closing the gallery and arrived late, had let himself in and upon finding the family all together, asked, concerned, "Is anything the matter? Are you all well? Or, is this some kind of tradition?"

This broke the mood and everyone laughed while Lettie disentangled herself from the circle and grabbed Charles, pulling him into the hugging mass: "Yes! Now it is! From now on when Jane and Lizzy come over we are all having a group hug!"

"Well now you're suffocating me!" A laughing Elizabeth gasped. "And I desperately need to use the bathroom!" This proclamation was adequate to motivate the family's disentanglement.

The trip had been planned as a long weekend road trip through Gallup and Flagstaff, with side trips on the weekend to take in the scenic 4 corners* views and historic stops.

Unfortunately, a big buyer had asked to see some of Uncle Gardiner's equipment at the last minute, relating the need to obtain equipment now, before the summer irrigation and later harvest operations took too much of his time. Tom was desirous of completing a large purchase and the family had arranged instead to take an airplane to Sedona and arrive on the first scheduled workshop day.

While Elizabeth had already planned to spend time with Jane at the end of the trip, this gave the sisters more catching up time beforehand. Jane and Charles invited Lizzy to stay with them and the offer was readily accepted. After a long, thoroughly satisfying dinner with the Gardiners, the three returned to the bungalow.

*4 Corners- the 4 corners of Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona. It's on the reservation or 'the rez' as some people call it.

* * *

Feel It All

Jane and Lizzy settled into the comfortable living room while Charles went to his studio to get in a few more hours of painting. The sisters, who used to share everything, found it difficult to begin. Jane had become increasingly at ease with Charles yet found her own changes more uncomfortable and didn't quite know how to convey all to her sister. Lizzy could sense both Jane's concern for her and the uneasiness beneath her placid demeanor, and was at a loss as to what to say.

Finally, Jane felt she must be the first to delve deeper than the superficial catching up in which they had been engaged. The sisters spent the evening getting caught up on the details of Lizzy's convalescence, family drama, Jane's career change and her ups and downs with Charles. After every other subject was exhausted, Jane nudged her sister to discuss Darcy. "So what do you think of his letter and proposal now that you've had a few months to think about it?"

"I still can't believe he was going to follow me around and manage my career. Even if he were to offer his support now, were it unconditional, it feels disingenuous to allow myself to benefit from his privilege."

Jane countered, "But if you love each other, and he has learned from his mistakes, if his support is now freely offered, why begrudge him the generosity? It could be of benefit to you, as long as you set parameters first, speaking from personal experience."

Lizzy sighed, "It's not like I can go up to him now and go 'oh, now that I think about it, I'd really like to be your girlfriend if we can talk things out.' Especially now, when I'm more vulnerable physically and having lost the summer internship. He already basically said he would be supporting me, the one with no name, no career, and I threw it in his face, insisted I could make it on my own and insulted his family for good measure.

It's really scary to think I may come face to face with him this week, obviously not at internship, and on his family's turf- an artists colony, so to speak. He'll take one look at me, remember what happened and will be glad that I said no. I'm a mess ."

"Trust me when I say he may have just as many regrets as you do about what was said and done. I can almost guarantee you he isn't glad about the way things turned out. In fact, I think you're in as much danger as ever of making him fall in love with you. That is, if he ever fell out of love. But, I think you are in much greater danger of being able to keep your hands to yourself once you are within arm's length of him. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to try his hand at helping you complete your convalescence. If I were you, I'd be more worried about that eventuality. Did you pack condoms, you know, just in case?" Jane elbowed her sister and waggled her eyebrows. "Better yet, do you think you can play harder to get?"

"Jane! Take your own advice! Stop trying to control me! Since when did my big sister get so bossy and big sisterly?" Lizzy moved to stroke her sister's hair affectionately. "I am glad you've grown some cojones sister, but use them on Charles. He needs more bossing around than me."

Jane would not be easily dissuaded from the discussion. "Sweetie, I really think that you should talk to Tia Lena, at least, about his offer. That way she will be able to give you some kind of assistance."

"And be at risk of her calling me a stupidhead? Never! I'll be fine. Really. Thanks for caring. I love you." They hugged. "I know you love me. And you know what? I love myself, and want my next relationship to be an extension of that spark, and we make each other better people. I can't have any kind of liaison for anything less."

"That is who you deserve, Lizzy. Someone who is as talented, beautiful, and strong as you are."

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

The sisters got a small second wind after their verbal sparring. Lizzy couldn't keep being curious about Caroline and mentioned that she was the reason they were going to Rosings. Jane had diplomatically replied that Caroline was a great promoter of her brother's work and her own, and that she always seemed to be doing something to garner the spotlight.

Caroline's work was always being displayed in some gallery or other, and with her business acumen, Caroline had the knack of selling various types of merchandise at pricepoints affordable to a wide range of patrons. As such, Jane explained, Caroline spent much of her time traveling around and they'd not seen her since Christmas.

Lizzy could tell that Jane had become more careful about Charles's sister. While she decided she was not going to ask more about her reasons, she couldn't help but wonder about her lovelife. "She and Darcy were at some event and Caroline acted like they were together."

Jane put in, "It was in the papers that way, when one section took pictures of people on the town and their picture was taken. But when Charles teased him about it he got really angry. I know she seems like she'd have everything Darcy is looking for. He certainly talks about an accomplished woman as being very much like Caroline's description. I don't know if he knows it or not."

Lizzy sighed, " Well, that's one reason I got tired of trying with him. I felt like I was trying to live up to some standard in his head. And I got even more tired that Caroline seemed like it."

"Lizzy, it's true that she's very talented. I know she has a lot of things you'd like to have, I'm not blind. But she looks much better on paper than she does in real life. And, she expects a great deal of the world; she is really quite entitled and materialistic.

Do you know why she has such fabulous possessions? Anytime she, Charles or Louis had a problem, their parents would 'buy' their 'happiness'. Charles learned a long time ago that didn't make him happy and his dad disowned him for it. Louis is incredibly conservative by nature and just does what his dad wants because that's what he wants too. Caroline took it to an extreme, as you see.

The other day, she and Charles were skyping and I heard them talking- I wasn't eavesdropping, mind you," Jane said with a twinkle in her eye.

"But, Caroline was talking about her dad, saying he had a lawsuit having to do with the mortgage crisis and you know what she said? Not that she would help him and be there for him, or that she was worried about him. Caroline was merely concerned about being too stressed to do her art. So, she went and got a life size 'healing angel' to put in her studio to protect her prosperity. How in the hell is a THING supposed to make it better? And anyway, it has no benefit to her dad's predicament!" Jane cried.

"Maybe she should get a weeping angel." The sisters giggled at Lizzy's suggestion. "That would be helpful to the rest of the world. But seriously, that is pretty immature."

"And to answer your question, I really don't think Caroline is the person Darcy has in mind when he talks about an accomplished woman." Jane poked her sister in the side.

Lizzy scowled and poked her back. "I'm just going to Rosings to do art, relax and get ready for my work when I get home."

"Yeah right Lizzy. "Jane gave her sister another good poke for measure, ending in a pillow fight.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

The sisters spent the rest of the weekend engaged in window shopping, messing around in the studio, having coffee and generally living the bohemian life of Charles and Jane. The feeling of envy was difficult for Lizzy to deny, but somehow she pushed it down. She didn't like to feel jealous of her sister and couldn't admit that she was jealous of Caroline who she supposed lived just such a life, regardless of what her sister could say otherwise.

Gardiners and Lizzy arrived at Rosings near the end of the evening. The three registered and took dinner in their suite where they unpacked. Orientation and activities would begin in the morning. Lizzy found she needed the rest.

Upon awaking, Lizzy, Tia and Uncle Gardiner had a delightful breakfast and were directed to the conference room for orientation. Lizzy saw who was at the front table and took a deep breath as she encouraged herself _I'm here for the art and to relax; I'm here to get ready for work when I get home. If I'm really lucky, that artistic spark inside will light up. Otherwise, I'm here to enjoy my vacation and the people I meet. And I will certainly maintain myself and show how much I have grown as a person if I am around CERTAIN people._

*It was once thought Epstein Barr/chronic fatigue. It has other effects from mononucleosis such as damage to the spleen or liver.

*OK who hasn't heard of weeping Angels? Look them up if you dare via Dr Who wiki. Just don't turn your back or blink. Ever

* * *

Rise

At first, to his way of understanding things, she could only be described in the negative space she occupied. How like Lizzy was to the many scetches he made of his ideal woman. She still was so unexpected, in that she existed at all. Lizzy had a primal quality simultaneously frightening, inexplicably drawing him in further and further, even now, despite her rejection of him.

It felt like it did in his dreams when he was coasting on a dusty back road that wound around the dense and monumental high desert brush; he always wondered what was beyond, what was behind the foliage, around the next curve. Her essence was fresh like creosote in the desert after rain.

The sensation of Lizzy was that of an old, perfectly worn tee shirt- threadbare from washings and use- her lightness clung to his body. Her fleshy curves were unattainable altars where he longed to worship the unknown feminine: Darcy realized that Elizabeth Bennet was perhaps the strongest force in his life to date and he had no idea of her, as a known entity and as mystery. Darcy found the object of his devotion – there could be no self delusion as to his own 'grandeur' or as to his role as a sort of protector and mentor. He was ready for the truth of her, for the truth of himself, for the truth of them together. He was ready to be initiated.

It was a good thing he knew the orientation so well, as he presented the workshop information like an automaton with perfect timing, except for the second he was caught by Catalina…

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

Lizzy's discovery of that spark occurred in a flash of amber that she glimpsed as he shoved his hand in a jacket pocket before his presentation.

Catalina introduced him, stating that he'd had arrived Sunday night after some mystery weekend. His aunt teased him about his naked fire dancing ritual and rolling in the mud. Lizzy could tell it was somehow close to a truth he was embarrassed to admit. Having noticed the color on his hand, Lizzy wondered at the secret of his weekend and knew those hands would reveal something more. How strong and muscular his arms were. There were scars- they were the arms of an artist. It was uncomfortable, the attraction and familiar sense of him. Lizzy continued to unobtrusively observe, awaiting a slip when he would again reveal his hand.

She could not yet admit how much she enjoyed taking in the appearance of his lean yet supple torso filling out a slightly sheer, simple snap front shirt with western stylings. Or the way it was casually tucked into his slim fit black jeans to reveal an equally tantalizing view of his pelvic region, ensconced in an interesting painted leather belt with a silversmithed buckle. She noticed the slightly windblown look Darcy's curls had, and the way they invited her to walk over and run her fingers through them.

No, she could not admit the thoughts in full. Certainly it was only to catch Darcy, for a laugh, tease him about whatever his hand would reveal. She was quite intently focused on this man. She certainly was distracted from the orientation. It was a good thing she had already thoroughly perused the brochure as most of the information was redundant anyway.

Eventually, at a break, Darcy forgot himself and took a stance that was second nature - crossing arms over his chest and staring out a window, sideways. Just then she glimpsed a terra cotta colored tree branching out on his fingers. Its base was at Darcy's wrist and there a tribal design wound around. Who would have thought he was a hippie? She quirked her lips in amusement. So debonair, even his jeans were tailored to perfectly fit. Not that she complained. They did fantastic things for his thighs and ass, she noticed, eyes traveling his form. He noticed her gaze. She challenged him with a look.

After the orientation he made his way over to her in way of explanation. "My mother started me with this mentor when I was young. I still see him sometimes- and we do uh, different sorts of uh ritual type.. things…" He said it while nervously pulling at his cuff to conceal that adornment. But when he said it, Darcy leaned in, eyes consuming her.

After all she'd said, after her obvious inadequacy, why was he making any effort at all? She just wanted to understand. That was all it took. She was captivated. And then, just then, she found who he was to her and it was a wonderful secret. All thoughts and feelings were made apparent though not yet not completely known.

She savored all the forgotten bits that invited recollection- his molten eyes, Darcy's amazing art, his romanticism, so pleasurably expressed... How could they have gotten into such a situation- more than once? There was yet still so much to discover, about herself, about him. About _them_. She blushed, thinking these things in public, and her Tia and Uncle were there!

Timing of events conspired against them. Darcy had to give another workshop, one for which she had not registered. Quite determined to stay her course, she refused to change her agenda, although policy stated that participants could change workshops whenever they wanted. He reminded her of the possibility, inviting Lizzy in a hopeful manner, implying she would be doing HIM the favor of attending his workshop. This was the opposite of his former officiousness. He even suggested that he would be willing to change any workshop if she had an idea of a topic that would interest her.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

She held such sway in his inclinations that he had to make an abrupt exit when Lizzy did not respond more favorably. As far as he was concerned, it was completely likely that this woman, who he loved, still detested him but hid it well. Suffering took on the savoring quality of unrequited love. How he would make Lizzy his? Darcy feared he'd again been officious and swore to act differently.

At lunchtime Darcy had taken a table by himself but near to Lizzy and her relatives. He noticed Lizzy was barely touching her food and didn't speak; both of them slouching and introspective. Tia just looked at him and shook her head. The week was new, pregnant with any number of possibilities and at least 3 formidable women who could be very angry with him depending on what course of action he took.

If it didn't happen this week, he would chase her down in New Mexico to face her. In her presence, words seem to melt away, at least the ones he needed to encourage her.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

She planned to go early to the yoga studio, hoping to spend time just laying there, staring out at the rushing creek and the green banks, relaxing, thinking, of course.* Her plans were pleasantly interrupted when she cracked open the door and heard peaceful flute music and an unusual heat wafting towards her.

Looking at the mirrored wall opposite, through the crack in the door, Lizzy could see that Will was upside down in a _pose. He flowed through the asanas and held power poses with perfect grace. Lizzy couldn't help but watch, enraptured by his perfect form and figure. There were voices behind her and she knew that Darcy would notice her eventually from the noise. Having no choice in her mind, she opened the door, entering, just as Darcy finished a sun salutation. "You're quite good. Why don't you join us in class?"

"As you see, or, feel, rather, I like the room a little warm, and that's not good for people who have health problems, so…"Lizzy noticed as Darcy spoke, he had moved from his poses, having taken the mat from his floor and was holding it in front of himself in an odd manner.

Her eyebrow shot up and her lip twitched. Her eyes sparkled as she looked down, not being able to help herself, Lizzy replied "It is warm in here, you're right. Maybe we should …" Her eyes flicked invitingly to the door. Oh, what was she doing? She looked apprehensively at him, wondering if he knew what she was hoping.

Just as she thought he made a hint of a move towards herself, others began filing into the studio. Suddenly he had disappeared. She had happened to notice before the interruption that Darcy's eyes wore that molten expression she'd seen before, further confirming her suspicion that his pants wore a most appealing bulge. _Maybe you have a chance after all…. But at what? Sex…. or more?_ She practiced at emptying her head, but was exceedingly poor at it, her yoga poses suffered all the more as a result.

www dot innaboveoakcreek dot com/

www dot asunsetchateau dot com/home dot php

*oak creek view


	25. Chapter 25

I had some time to post a taste of what is to come next weekend.

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

this chapter next chapter we get to some M stuff (waggles eyebrows)

* * *

It's the way that you feel

A little bit of M stuff

Darcy, taking Bingley's advice recently began allowing himself to be more vulnerable- especially this week with Lizzy. At least during the moments when they were together. For all the good it had done. So far most of their time seemed to be longing looks at meals or breaks interrupted by someone.

Darcy was sure Catalina had something to do with it. Lizzy had sat down to dinner just this evening a relieved smile on her face, starting with the clichéd "Alone at last."No sooner had he agreed, laughingly, and inquired at her meaning, than did one of Catalina's minions interrupt the promising tete a tete. They and asked for him to see to some detail or other with his evening workshop that really could have waited. He apologized, hoping that she understood the meaning behind his penetrating look and his heart leapt when she mouthed 'meet me later'.

Darcy settled the details of his powerpoint presentation, finished off his now cold meal, and when the time came, blundered through the evening presentation while rushing answers to questions of hangers on afterward. Finally, he was done for the night. Not knowing where or when later meant, he determined her room might be a likely place.

No use in waiting. He knew which room she stayed in. Darcy came upon her dark room and assumed she was at the late night meditation group. He hoped to await her return and was about to turn on the light when Darcy came upon her in the dark was fully clothed, body prone and palms up in a classic corpse pose.

First he just sat and stared at her slumbering form. Her curls were spread out on the bed invitingly, Lizzy's peaceful face looked utterly kissable. Her décolletage was well highlighted and nipples clearly outlined under the sheer softness of a heather and knit top which rode up, exposing her creamy abdomen above galaxy leggings that left little to the imagination.

It was too much for his steely discipline to handle. Darcy reached out and with a feather touch stroked her hair, her face, grazed his hand over her body, savoring the sensation of her curves. Lizzy's eyes momentarily fluttered, she quivered and rolled over in her sleep.

" Lizzy" he whispered. She was out like a light. "You have no idea how much I still want us to be together. So many times in the past few days I've come this close to seducing you, only to draw back, afraid you'd think I didn't respect you, afraid of Catalina's stupid rules.

It takes every ounce of resolve not to push aside the paint and easel and straddle the art bench with you firmly ensconced upon me…. to wade into the creek, scoop you up and find a place near the bank to sit you so I could grind myself into you…. to lock the studio door and show you some Tantric positions while watching a dozen angles of us making love….

The movement of your head, the turn of each curl, the slope of your pale shoulder, the berry essence of your lips I want to taste- above and below….

How ardently I admire and love you…. I've never let anyone invade me, body and soul, as you so have, …. I may burst from wanting us to be together again. But on YOUR terms. I won't get in your way. Just let me be there for you, be with you.

This time I won't let you go. Don't toy with me- are your feelings what they were? If so, give me a message and I'll prevail upon you no further."

In sync with his soft words, Lizzy turned to him, those berry lips turning upward, smiling. Her hand flopped over and indicated to him the answer, written clearly. It was a journal entry, _What am I to do if my love for him is unrequited? I want him so badly it's driving me mad._

He sighed, feeling the pang of recognition, a plan forming. _At least I didn't compromise my position as a 'Creativity Coach'… hmph, Who cares what Catalina says? Lizzy loves me. I_ _will_ _conquer any resistance and she will be mine, no matter what, s_ aid Darcy's uninhibited side.

Lizzy whispered, "Who are you? Every time I see you, you change-"

He wondered if she was talking to him. He moved into the shadows, now uncertain if she was really awake. By her actions he had at first assumed she was just tired and had been awakened. Now he wasn't so sure. He moved into the shadows, waiting to see what would unfold, and whether he would leave or reveal himself to her.

Lizzy shifted in the bed, her mind in a haze. She felt a physical paralysis, with awareness of observing a dream. In her dream, she sat in a gondola with an ageless man in Roman costume in deep conversation as he stood at the bow, pushing it along. As she looked into his deep eyes, he changed into Darcy. A lucid voice in Lizzy's vision asked _Tell me where I am_.

The dream shifted so the cavern became backstage, behind a grand proscenium that went on forever. The man moved before her and Lizzy's hands swiftly removed a costume from a young, long-haired Ian Astbury, his soft, pale skin glistening in sweat from his performance under the lights. The lights fluttered in shadow and she realized the shadows were wings, his wings. They were something between angel wings and bat wings, appearing in turns like dreams often do. But this was not a dream, was it?

What was the box doing in her hands? It was impossibly divine. Made of metal, heavy in her hands, the box was embossed in script from a lost language that called out to her. She opened it to put some kind of incandescent makeup on him and found herself drawn to it, mesmerized. The man implored her not to put it on herself, not to look in the box. She couldn't help but stare into the opalescent substance that shimmered like all the sands in all the beaches shining under all the suns in every universe, all in this box. In some other language it spoke to her, telling her _touch me_ …

Dipping her hand in, and she became immersed in the box, which was a portal. An ethereal dark creature with talon like nails, fangs, impossibly long hair, and bat or angel wings followed, latching on to her. They began making love and Lizzy found herself close to release when she saw what must be herself in a mirror, and she was hideous. She stopped in horror as she saw a beautiful woman enter. The woman in white was furious. _You took my beauty cream._

 _Mother, you know it was mine. You have your own beauty. I can share mine with whomever I choose._ Said the winged man.

 _You shared it with her and it's killing her because you're from different worlds. You can see it!_ Venus gestured to the mirror where Lizzy saw her hideous self.

The man threw back, That _mirror is a lie. It tells us the worst of what we believe. It can hardly be called a mirror._

He shook Lizzy, _You will die if you believe this is all you are._ The man who was either the creature or Darcy began wiping copious amounts of fluid from Lizzy who now felt she was drowning. The beauty cream became strangling amniotic fluid. _I_ _want_ _you to live. But_ _you have to_ _make your_ _self_ _live._ His caresses wiped the fluid as he spoke, urging her to live and to believe.

In the distance she heard a pounding, drumming, almighty sound. Lizzy gasped, sitting up in bed. She didn't notice the soft clicking of the door as Darcy closed it behind him. She blearily heard voices down the hall in earnest conversation. Was it her imagination or was it Catalina and Darcy? She shook the wool from her head and was compelled to document her dream, and as she did, it heightened the feeling of being there again. She wished, she could forget what her mind bade her to remember: his eyes, his face. After writing the recollections down, Lizzy googled the stories of Venus and found The Golden Ass.

The dream spoke its unspeakable truths to her. She must believe in herself in order to truly live, regardless of what job she had; whether or not her work was ever recognized. Whether others judged that her work lacked credibility or some other measure of 'good art', it didn't matter. But she realized she also needed the friction of criticism from trusted sources to better her work.

She trusted Maeve implicitly in this regard. She trusted Aunt Phil and Tia to give her career and business advice, too. They could all be counted on to be honest. She was saved more than one mistake by benefiting from their wisdom. Just then, she realized that HE, too, had always been honest with her when they worked together.

Whatever He said 'behind her back' must have been just as he'd said. Now that she was here, it made sense. She could, indeed, trust him to tell her the truth. And he had- he appreciated her as a person- and as an artist. _And the whole time I was indignant at his well meaning but clumsy attempts to do just that. I treated him with ugliness. Aesthetics aren't just about how things look after all. He's influenced me. My work changed because of him- the whole neoclassical slant had been his idea for the show. I'd gotten inspired from it to do my own neoclassical pieces. He may have given a push, but my spark came from inside, He just helped fan the flames. Speaking of flames…_

She had previously tried to force herself to forget His look of raw, aching desire. Lizzy thought she glimpsed it occasionally when she caught Darcy staring. It occurred disconcertingly often and Lizzy was sure that after she invited him to meet her later, surely he'd make a move tonight. But, he remained maddeningly platonic in his warm intensity. She tried to forget how it felt when they talked- like they were merely old friends. She didn't know how to be just friends with him, not now.

Something niggled at the back of her mind. Darcy, telling her how he ardently admired and loved her. He never said those words, did he?

Before it became bizarre, the dream had started out so pleasantly with this declaration. Was all of it a dream?

* if you have not done so, the Golden Ass is a lovely story and you can find it free if you do a word search. I highly recommend it. There are also antique/ vintage books with magical illustrations, if you are so inclined to seek out such a thing.

* * *

It's the truth in your eyes

Before the morning workshop session he asked to sit down with her at breakfast. They had difficult start.

"How's your family?"

"Very good." She looked up at him, her eyes searching his.

Unable to maintain eye contact, afraid she know about last night, he concentrated on his plate. _"_ The bacon and parsnip combination is particularly good with the eggs."

"Mmm, I agree. My compliments to the chef." They dug in, thankful for the delicious reason to not have to talk. It still felt awkward.

"And your family's doing well?" She caught his eye and giggled, "Yes. As far as I know. They're poor correspondents, mostly sharing facebook posts. You know, the usual. So, um, what workshop are you doing today?"

"Well, I am leading the journaling session. Today's topic is _What is inside Pandora's Box_?" His eyes bore into her.

She returned his gaze. "This is cheesy- I don't know if it's the red rocks 'vortex' effect or whatever, but I think I just had a weird coincidence. I just dreamed about a metal box with magical properties."

"Maybe that means you should come to my session, then. If you like." He wore a knowing expression. Lizzy found it odd that he didn't ask more about what she'd meant. She'd always assumed before when he would do things like that- not ask an obvious question- he was being pompous. Her feelings told her something else. He had that expression and he didn't ask because somehow, he did know. He didn't need to ask.

Lizzy was compelled to attend the session. She realized her dream was a sort of code as she journalled.

 _Sometimes it's hard to find the wherewithal to go on._

 _I don't admit that to myself, ever. I looked for something outside myself for confirmation or direction. When I met Cole, I thought he challenged me but really he just made my anxieties worse. I attributed my successes to some kind of magic Cole had but in truth, my work would have grown whether or not he was there. When he disappeared, I had sworn that I was never going to rely on a guy for validation._

 _I had to change course because of how that summer went with Jane. No, I didn't have to. I thought I had to then. Now I realize that I chose to change course. I've always felt a bit adrift, even with mentors like Tia Lena, Aunt Phil and Maeve. Their well meaning advice is taken, but I'm not going to own a shop or design costumes in a theatre, so their advice only goes so far._

 _But Darcy knows what it is like to truly be on his own, selling his work in his gallery. I think that is why he invited to support me. I've been denying too long the effect that people have on me, especially him. Opening myself up here is a re discovery of the inner desire to see my artistic visions come to life._

 _But I now see there will always be risk- whether I'm with someone or not. I will always have critics and I have to listen to them before throwing out advice I don't want to hear because I'm too insecure to consider it may be true._

 _Before, I blamed those feelings inferiority on Darcy- just like I felt in the dream- but I_ _chose_ _to allow myself to relate as if I was his inferior. The dream expressed my change of heart- the recognition of my true heart's desire- and my carnal desire. That man drives me crazy and I need to take the risk with him. I need to figure out how._

She was thankful the workshop came to an end and she could distract herself from this line of thought. Everyone gathered in the large common room for the free-form gouache project. Why did he have to sit next to her? It was maddening. Her thoughts were ill concealed as she worked on the small gouache, a scarlet mesmerism of nocturnal colors and bodies come to life. Her body burned as she felt his dark eyes on her, surely, knowing the truth.

* * *

tada!

Happy MLK day, everyone.

Here's to the Big Dream.


	26. Chapter 26

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

* * *

Mystify me

MA fantasy stuff

The day transformed Lizzy and Darcy's thoughts into greater but vague ideas about their future. Lizzy found herself nearly shaking with the energy that came from further work on her dream. It carried her through the mid day studio time. At the mid afternoon hike she walked of the buzz and during respite, sketched. Darcy was not present at dinner nor at evening meditation. His absence was a disappointment but she found an inner fullness that allowed for their divergence.

After the morning workshop, he knew the inevitable had finally caught up to him. "Aunt Catalina what can I do for you?

It's what I want you not to do…I've seen how you look at that young artist, Elizabeth. I know what that painting of hers meant. I could tell. You're no better. I'll have you know, regardless of your notion that I run an establishment for hacks, we are a licensed facility. Might I remind you that I am not only a well respected artist but also a renowned healer with credentials to consider? And many of my other employees are, as well. Some of the people are here for therapy, not just to paint a pretty picture.

I know it has never before been a problem for you to ward off the guest advances but this young woman is just your type, and you seem to have a history. Collins would have me believe your intentions aren't platonic. So before you go doing anything stupid, remember what happened to Wickham when he came here as a chef and I found out he'd been canoodling.

Not that you really care about this gig, but think about Rosings reputation before you go and ruin it by your activities with a guest. Someone here would find out and the papers would have a field day." She gave him a pointed look.

"I'll keep that in mind." Darcy growled. Retreating to his personal quarters, Darcy took brush to canvas in a vain effort to exorcise his desires. The energy that had been inspiring him now felt like it was burning through is body. He had to do something about it. That something was not available to him at this time, Darcy grudgingly reminded himself. He continued through lunch and dinner, snacking on salami, cheese, chocolate and fruit from his personal stash. When the painting had come to a place that needed conclusion for the moment, Darcy looked at the clock, and was shocked to find it was about one in the morning.

He felt he could stay awake all night and would have done so if there weren't responsibilities that meant he had to be up and awake at 6. Knowing this, Darcy took some zolpidem tartrate and slowly fell into Morpheus's arms.

Darcy dreamed that he crossed a river and began wandering a maze. When he got to its center, there was Lizzy lying on a palatial bed covered in bright silks that draped the bed and hung from the ceiling, reminiscent of Indian Royalty. She appeared not to be sleeping normally but as if in a death-like trance, as she lay pale, barely breathing.

She was adorned in a fine costume like a Princess from the Ancient East. Was she laid out for a religious service? Burial? Initiation? All three? Something More?

Above her, colored lights seem to tinkle like magical bells, while they grew and morphed into otherworldly apparitions.

The gossamer wraiths took a knowing tone.

An unnamed power possessed Darcy, propelled him forward. He felt a warmth, a swelling in his breast. Before him he could only see what appeared to be the brightest light, but a solid, heavy, golden sort of light that hung about in orbs, projected right through his being in sunlight beams. He never wanted to leave this unbearable, heavenly sense of peace and of being engulfed by the love of some great Consciousness.

That same Source was propelling him ever toward Lizzy who seemed to also be lit from within. As he moved forward, the silks covering her bed turned from vibrant hues to vast, ancient tree that seemed to pull her deeper in its trunk's depths, surrounding her with moss, bark and branches, obscuring her until she looked like a ghastly green woman of indecipherable age, covered in lichen scales, her hair green with moss, the tips of her toes and fingers growing into the tree. _Release her_ Darcy found himself uttering.

He then noticed carvings the tree. Its language spoke. _What This is, You Will Be._ On his left was a primitive but recognizable outline of a butterfly. On the right was a red triangle pointed upward. He put is hand on it and he found an arrow in his grasp. It trained his eye toward the treetops' branches, which intertwined, forming a gabled, elf-like appearance.

 _What it is, you too will be,_ Darcy spoke, as if he were reading it from the image before him. He was propelled to move through the dense growth, swiping away the foliage with the arrow –become- sword as he strode toward that hideously beautiful bower. He was about to tear into it when he heard the primordial deep groaning of the tree rending. As it did so, small winged creatures fluttered out of the foliage, disturbed from their rest, their noises repeating the phrase.

 _What it is, you two will be_ Darcy found himself saying again and again, repeating it as the branches and loam pulled away, revealing his beloved who was in a deep sleep. She appeared to have been thus for years, as she was covered in cobwebs, her nails long and hair became part of the viney growth and wildflowers that sprouted around her. He moved to straddle Lizzy without putting any weight on her, his fingers entwining in her curls.

He continued to repeat that phrase into her lips. His words became a communication of all the corporeal ways he wanted to animate her with his passion. As he did so, Darcy's member moved between her now slick thighs, tantalizing Lizzy's clit, rubbing against her folds, and she was just Lizzy again. The dream spell worked.

Darcy now found that he was whispering the incantation in a very dark room, a normal room. He was on a regular bed, kissing a very real and very awake Lizzy who was kissing him back. Her lips whispered their own secrets into his lips. They were in her room. At the Spa. The one where his Aunt told him not to do this. 

* * *

I am the flame, you are the blood

MA cont'd

He must have been under the influence of his sleeping pills. These thoughts rushed through Darcy's mind even as he continued to kiss Lizzy, unwilling to stop, damn the consequences. No, he was unable to stop. Darcy did pull away ever so slightly and said between kisses _-_ "I suppose this was a surprise."

"It does not follow it was an unwelcome one." Lizzy arched her brow. "I take it you are fully awake now- body AND mind? Shall we continue?" she asked with a beckoning smile. "Don't ask, just go with it- then talk." Lizzy said between luscious, probing kisses. "Is that OK with you?"

"When you put it like that, how can I refuse?"

"You are utterly bewitching when you sleep seduce me. I'm so turned on I couldn't stop if I tried." Lizzy admitted. They both continued to converse between kisses. "Enough talk. Let's _... "she said with a quirk of her eyebrow. "I want you inside me." She turned over, knelt and offered herself to him as Darcy plunged into her, his pelvis thrusting into her feminine depths as it repeatedly smacked against her delectable derriere.

Lizzy felt his tip hitting against her cervix, causing pleasure deep within, as his length slid back and forth against her core and her folds, sending vibrations of climax after climax moving ever toward release. Lizzy's clit was aching and she rubbed herself as Darcy continued his assault, varying rhythm from tantalizingly slow to a pounding speed that took her breath away.

He seemed to move within her for hours, and for hours she felt convulsions of release wax and wane but never fully go away or release. Finally he cried out and exploded into her and she felt the ultimate release.

Afterward, Lizzy was wide awake, set fully alive, fully embodied in her beauty, fully inhabiting her unique talents- it was as if someone had lit a fire inside her. And someone did.

That morning Lizzy prepared herself like any other day, putting on makeup, adding some last minute polish to her curls and smoothing her sheer, creamy cotton vintage sleeveless tunic and jeans, Lizzy stepped into the morning sun. As she sat with the others outside by the creek, eating a surprisingly delicious paleo* breakfast, Lizzy contemplated if she was ready to face _him_.

Upon entering the airy studio, Lizzy became immediately relaxed as she gazed out at the view of Oak Creek and the red rocks. Lizzy warred within herself between declaring her love or continuing to leave her feelings unspoken. _After all, who knows when I will see him after this week is over…_ Lizzy then noticed the workshop leader in the studio… wasn't Darcy. _How very vexing. Now what?_

As if in answer to her inner question, the workshop leader spoke: "Everyone, for this session, we are going on a field trip. It is well known place, but I suggest you focus on your awareness and I will leave you to experience what you will…."

After a short drive and hike, Lizzy and the other participants were rewarded with a magical sight: Nestled in Oak Creek with the vision of Cathedral Rock* before her, Lizzy saw hundreds of columns varying in height, made of river rocks and red rocks stacked, one on another. Some were clearly hundreds of pounds in size while others were mere pebbles.

Lizzy felt light and airy as Ina called everyone to their centering meditation exercise. Upon concluding her meditation, Lizzy opened her eyes, seeing before her unfocused vision innumerable tiny dots, waves and bursts. She thought she could glimpse darting twinkles of light as well and remembered Ina's instructions.

Inwardly she asked herself what to do… without thought something inside her began to speak to the swirling energies: _Whatever you are- imagination or not- do you have anything to say to me?_

She opened her journal writing and sketching to catch a drops of ideas the torrent moving in her mind. They came drop by drop as each moment built upon the other under a canopy of cottonwoods and aspen, amongst the fairy rocks as Lizzy now thought of them. Lines she was sketching became a series of women clothed in neo classical diaphanous garments, in the end considering their clear resemblance to Botticelli's Rites of Spring. The picture, however, was from a different perspective, as if she were in the lineup of subjects looking to her right and left. The women, too, had a less homogenous appearance and instead took on all shapes, sizes, ages and in some cases hardly looked the classical version of 'feminine' at all. Still they al kept the neoclassical spirit. It reminded her of the television show Rome, which depicted the classical world in its gritty, diverse glory.

She had been so consumed in her sketches that hours passed and the time had come to return to Rosings. After a hasty lunch she journaled more about the sketches that sprang forth so readily. Lizzy looked up that Botticelli painting and was drawn to Voluptas, especially. She couldn't place why, instead seeking to free flow the words that came to her in her journal, working outside of a sense of time, yet again until she heard the dinner announcement.

Lizzy couldn't help the sharp pang of disappointment that tore through her when she received news that Darcy left abruptly that morning. She'd assumed he was still around, even looked forward to what she felt was a certain sign they were to continue what had started last night.

* Oak Creek/Cathedral Rock- one of the scenes for which Sedona is famous:

www dot 360 cities dot net /image/oak-creek-with-cathedral-rock-near-sedona-az-arizona#0.00,0.00,70.0

* * *

Try to be more romantic

"Well, fancy hearing from you, after all these weeks, you bastard."

"The phone works both ways, Charles." Darcy drawled.

"Ah, but I was quite occupied with a beautiful Bennet, what's your excuse? More of the same, I hope?" Charles's tone of voice was that of a smug, well satisfied man.

"I'd really like to talk about it in person if it's all the same to you." Darcy grunted.

"Does that mean you got laid?" Charles asked his friend.

Darcy hoped his friend could sense him rolling his eyes. "I won't be telling you that even when we do get together so don't try."

Charles wasn't fooled by Darcy's bark, but he let it pass. "That means you did! You sly dog! Although it is incumbent upon me as her sister's boyfriend to tell you I'll kill you if you hurt her."

"Sounds like you're taking things very seriously then, at least as seriously as you can." Charles deserved to be needled back, Darcy groused, inwardly.

"When do you want to get together, man?" Charles called his friend back to the subject at hand.

And so, arrangements were made to meet. And at the meeting, arrangements were made for certain hopeful eventualities.

 _Several days later…._

"My brother! It is good to see you." William hugged his little brother fiercely, causing Jorge to yelp.

"Stop! I can't breathe! You're going to injure me."

"Sounds like you could use some roughing up." Darcy made to muss his brother's well coifed mane.

Jorge pushed his brother away, "What are you talking about? I'm your delicate baby brother. Besides, you'll mess up my hair."

Darcy held his hands up, shaking his head. "Alright, geez!" And then he grabbed his brother and pulled him into another hug.

When they pulled away, Jorge asked, "So, tell me more about what that asshole did now, and how I can help."

* * *

Wonder what the Darcy men have up their sleeves?


	27. Chapter 27

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

Thank you to loyal reader and reviewer, Loveinthebattlefield. I love the encouragement.

Please note that I am using Spanish/ Spanglish known to me conversationally. I did my best to research it so if anyone out there has a correction to make, please let me know (insert smiley face). Again Spanglish and Spanish in New Mexico have their own variations so sometimes people find it incorrect. I did my best to check that, too.

Please note that there are conversations of people working through finding out family is gay, which includes a variety of opinions. I don't share all opinions that are given on the subject in the coming chapters. I believe people should be able to love-and be with- who they love (ideally in a mutual, healthy relationship- but that is a bit subjective) regardless of gender or sexual orientation.

* * *

With or Without You

Lizzy had not begun the trip with any designs on renewing her liaison with Darcy, and she ended it with even fewer plans in that quarter. Not that she made much time to consider his abrupt departure. Once the shock subsided she no longer acknowledged its source nor allowed the pain. At least that's what she told herself. It was partially true.

Weeks of being cooped up, abed, and this healing place (and Darcy) all added up to the energy she felt, compelling her to create despite her feelings. Instead of moping, she poured her contemplation into art. She remained in studio hours after each workshop ended, having developed an elaborate idea that she needed to see to fruition. The Primavera forms became more elaborately fleshed out, with their array of types, posed and dressed in the style from the original.

Whatever anger, abandonment or other emotions felt were all channeled into this. Her work held vigil, instead of being pushed aside. She had finally given in to the instinct that she couldn't NOT create.

Catalina and others who filtered through the studio recognized in the pieces something to identify as their own. Part of Lizzy resented that voiced belonging, considered it appropriation of a sort. She wondered if separateness, which motivated her to act in the first place, was universal after all. It was hard to imagine someone like Catalina feeling like she, Lizzy, felt.

Rather than focus on those details of relating, Lizzy turned ever toward the work. Relating was something she did not want, at least for the time being. It had already been too much. She ate meals with everyone else, slept as she needed, went through the exercises, but otherwise used workshop, studio and free time in that diligent fashion.

Lizzy's work arrived at the phase where Spring was to be embodied and she took advantage of their field trip to Clarksdale and the Verde Valley's* antique stores to get more of what she loved best: antique needlecraft, having already arrived with her needlework, already full of basics- sewing and embroidery threads, needles, thimbles, Ginghers*, pins, fastenings, muslin, and a those ubiquitous scraps that remain in the wake of any dedicated stitcher.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

One morning, languorous days of creation and healing already drawing towards their conclusion, Lizzy was met at breakfast with the maudlin face of her Tia. Her uncle's presence was unaccounted for, and Lizzy didn't ask. "Mija, sit down," Lena urged.

"I'd rather take the bad news standing."

"Lydon is missing. Your uncle is making arrangements for us to go home a little early." Lizzy fired off question after question, her aunt sadly having little more information than Lydon's missing status. "Mary just called a few minutes ago, and they'd just realized he was missing this morning. After calling a few places, they realized no one had seen him for 5 days."

"How could they let this happen?" Elizabeth was outraged at the indolence her parents had raising their baby boy, raising all of them.

"The Phillips told your parents he and Wickham had been gone since Thursday, helping bail hay on Millie's ranch. When they'd told the Phillips they were leaving, your aunt called your mom and dad, but your mama and papa didn't do anything, saying it was fine if Lydon went and helped Wickham and Millie. They thought it would take some days to finish bailing so many acres of hay.

When your mother went to the Phillips to pick them up for their usual Sunday lunch with her, they still weren't there. Your father called Millie's ranch and her parents hadn't seen any of them since Friday night. Millie's parents said they were going to Juarez* and El Paso." Gardiner explained.

Throughout the time that she packed, said her goodbyes numbly, and got into the car, Lizzy's mind raced. _Had a missing persons report been filed? Had they called the hospitals, jails and, g-d forbid- the morgue? Had they hired anyone to help look? Did he go missing from Juarez or in El Paso?_ Her stomach lurched at the possibility that something happened across the border where kidnapping and murder was rampant.

As she sat, staring, unseeing, out the window, Lizzy was restless with worried thoughts that overpowered any other occupation besides staring out the window. Tia occasionally reached over and squeezed her hand supportively, a pensive look on her own face.

Lizzy wondered at how she'd so recently felt on the verge of everything, one of those pieces falling into place having been a certain man. She couldn't believe that now, not only had he left without a word, now, she was coming home to something less than the chaos she'd left. She really couldn't conceive how her art fit into the circumstances at the moment. To immerse herself in that pleasure now was a luxury of time she couldn't afford.

Not when her brother could be….But no, she couldn't-wouldn't- think of where, how, he could be. She blamed herself and her family. _No wonder he left. He must have realized how chaotic life could be with the lot of us. Not even the Gardiners were steady enough to make him stay._ Lizzy thought, in the bargaining manner one has in the throes of lost love. Her thoughts tumbled along, meandering down a dangerous course until finally she was interrupted.

Lizzy, Lena and Gardiner were at a truck stop in Lordsburg by the time they heard any updates. Everyone was frozen as Gardiner responded in one word syllables and wrote a few notes. Tom learned that Lydon had withdrawn his rodeo and animal money from savings on Thursday, all in cash. The checking account still had the remainder of his allowance, but that had been drained on Saturday, at various places in Las Vegas. The authorities were checking with establishments to see if their video surveillance showed anyone with Lydon's description during the times that his card was being used. The ride from Lordsburg to Dona Maria was the longest in her life.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

On The Farm, Lizzy, Tia and Uncle Gardiner were received with hugs by Jane and Mary. Kitty had been grounded to her room, a shocking development, while her mother was in her own room having fallen asleep after taking something to calm her nerves. She had been in hysterics for hours previous, until Mary convinced her to take the medication.

Edward was in his study, having recently returned from the police station in town. When Lizzy greeted her father, he looked haggard and listless. When he saw her he broke down, "I don't know what else to do for my boy." Lizzy comforted him will learning what had been done so far, then left him to sit staring out the window of his study. She suggested that he might eat and he agreed in a monotone voice that suggested he didn't even know what he'd agreed to do.

Lizzy and Jane took a few moments to share in each other's sisterly comfort, discussing the situation at hand. "Where is Bingley?"

"He and Caroline are helping Darcy with a, um, project."

Lizzy felt jealousy arise like bile in her throat but pushed it down, along with her expectation. Now was not the time. "Will he be coming down?"

"Yes, Caroline is going to, uh, take care of things and that will free up Charles to help with the others." Lizzy looked oddly at her sister. Jane couldn't lie very well.

Lizzy didn't want to ask, for fear of exactly what her sister held back. Best to get busy, keep busy. More important, now.

*Clarksdale, Verde Valley- nearby towns to Sedona

*Ginghers- very expensive, nice shears- tools of the trade for all kinds of serious stitchers

*Lordsburg- a very small New Mexico town on Interstate 10 about 4 hours east of Phoenix.

*Juarez- Large city in Chihuahua Mexico that shares a border with El Paso Tx. When I was a teenager in the 80s kids would go there to the bars/ clubs across the border to drink and it was considered fairly safe. Those are very touristy. There are posh areas, as well with posh bars and mercados. There are also areas full of people living basically in cardboard houses. A lot of trade occurs between the 2 cities and until the early 2000s or so a lot of goods were manufactured in Juarez and then brought over the border. For example, El Paso Tx used to be the 3RD LARGEST garment producing city in the nation. Around that time was when Miss Tx became Miss USA and there was a partnership (Guy Rex, I believe) in El Paso who 'made' her. There were amazing fabric stores downtown that would feature pictures of their contestants, wearing custom garments from their luxurious merchandise. Downtown El Paso, near the border with Juarez, was a thriving area filled with probably hundreds of shops, and back in the mid century featured such interests as an alligator pit. Tarahumara Indians and Hurdy Gurdy men with monkeys were among the interesting people on the streets selling wares and attracting tourists and shoppers alike. It used to be a safe city in the 80's/early 90's and before that. Unfortunately, it has become notorious for its cartel violence and the hundreds of female maquilladora workers who have been mysteriously murdered there. People are kidnapped for ransom and killed there, now, including tourists. Much more violence however, is done to the people who live there.

* * *

Resurrection

Uncle Gardiner, Lizzy and Jane posted information online and made calls to as many friends and acquaintances as they could. Mary sat with their mother, while Collins, not knowing what else to do, was out taking care of chores.

Tia took it upon herself to go into Kitty's room have a heart-to-heart. She knew that Kitty and Lydon were confidants, and suspected Kitty knew even more than she was divulging. Her niece had, in fact, known all along that Lydon planned to go clubbing for the weekend with Wickham. Kitty had only mentioned this after Lydon was determined missing.

Kitty didn't understand why everyone thought she was withholding information. It was most unfair that her mother suggested she even consider relinquishing her Fair Princess title. After all, _she_ didn't go clubbing. "Unbecoming conduct, whatever!" She huffed to Tia.

Tia wisely comforted her niece and let Kitty further speak her mind. "I shouldn't be grounded! I use my fair money more wisely than Lydon! He took all of his out on Thursday and then he called me Saturday and asked for some of mine! I should be thanked for being unselfish! If it weren't for me, Lydon would be in jail or homeless. It wasn't even very much, just a hundred dollars!"

Tia's ears perked up at this but tried to keep calm and keep her talking. "Yes, Kitty, everyone knows how much you do for Lydon."

"No they don't! I'm the only one in the family he trusts! Lydon told me so. I would never keep him from living his life. That's why I helped him."

Tia hated to lie to her niece but felt she deserved it for her stupid decisions, which may have helped Lydon run away. After all, she hadn't divulged this before, and it was certain that her parents had both given her a stern interrogation. Lena continued to provide encouragement. "That was very sweet of you to help him out in Vegas, it sounds like you really came through for Wickham and him. They must have had some bad luck at the slot machines to lose all Lydon's money like that."

"Las Vegas? They weren't gambling! I saved Lydon after that asshole Wickham deserted him in El Paso! Millie is pregnant with Lydon's baby and they went to elope in Vegas! They took his rodeo money. Lydon was so upset he didn't know what to do. I wired him money so he could pay for his motel, but he hasn't called me back since. I helped him out and get in trouble for him and he doesn't even call me back. I have no idea where he is." At this realization, Kitty started sobbing loudly.

Tia embraced her niece and let her cry for a few moments, before replying. "I think you should let your parents know how you protected your brother. Besides, if you don't know where he is now, you will be protecting him by helping find him now. He has no business on the streets of El Paso. He's only 17."

"They don't understand! They just grounded me! I won't ever get to leave the house now! Besides, they hate Lydon!" Kitty continued to sob.

This time, Tia took a different tone. She was sick of her niece's teenage nonsensicalness when that girl's own brother was at risk. "Mija, if you don't get off your bed and be responsible, I will go tell them myself. Which do you prefer?"

She got off Kitty's bed and made to open her door, when Kitty wailed "WAIT!"

Tia turned, "I think you are doing the right thing, Mija. Maybe if you tell them how you will use your mistake as a learning experience, it will show them that you are ready to start taking responsibility for yourself."

"But they'll still be angry."Kitty whined.

"Of course they'll be angry, your brother is out there God knows where and you helped him, not even having the decency to tell the familia… Tia heaved a deep breath and stopped herself. But you already heard this one from your Mama and your Papa, yes? Vamos pues, unless you want to hear it from me." She gave her niece a quelling look.

Kitty went and told her parents the information she'd been withholding.

"WHAT!?" Their father roared.

"How could you do such a thing!?" Their mother sobbed.

Uncle Gardiner succeeded in calming them down and suggesting that they would do better to use the small leads of the location where Kitty wired the money. After ascertaining the location was near downtown, Lizzy and Jane had the idea that Lydon may not be on the streets at all. They started googling various establishments in the vicinity of the money transfer.

Her mission to assist in the search having borne fruit, Tia turned to provide what other comfort she could to the family. Seeing her forlorn niece skulking in her room, Tia directed Kitty that she had better start making herself useful.

They started with straightening the house, which had been turned upside down in search of any clues to Lydon's whereabouts. The two also made tortas, salads and cookies, coaxing the reluctant family to take sustenance.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

The group had just finished eating when Bingley arrived, greeting everyone, especially Jane, with enthusiasm. They shared a whispered conversation, whereupon Jane said, looking pointedly to her Aunt and Uncle;"Bingley wanted to share some news about that mutual client. I'm afraid the client's business can't wait."

Lizzy's brows furrowed as her sister, Bingley and the Gardiners disappeared into one of the bedrooms. Bingley and Jane back slunk in a little later and sat down, saying little. Tia had disappeared into a room making herself busy. All of them bore expressions that did little to welcome questions. Gardiner emerged later, and was on the phone, talking cryptically.

He turned back to the table, "Sorry bout that, I couldn't keep this client waiting. Quite urgent, I'm afraid. Back to more important business. I uh, have been thinking and I realized that an, ummm friend was in a similar situation with his- I mean – their- family member. Kids run away sometimes and it may not be a good idea to go in with your guns blazing, so to speak, because it might alert them to you and they might run again.

Which is hard to suggest as a parent, but we may want to benefit from this friend's experience. I went ahead and called this friend and asked for uh- their- help. They suggest that this friend might look for Lydon in order gain his trust. I think they have certain things in common that will help."

"Do you really think that someone unknown to him will be more successful than his own family?" Edward asked.

"If I may, brother, you've all been friends with Wickham for awhile." Gardiner began.

"Yes, although now I begin to wonder what he's gotten himself into, going off and eloping with that Younge girl. But, I suppose it's good that he's being a man about it." Edward commented.

Gardiner continued, "Well, that is one of the things my friend has in common with Lydon. Wickham got to my friend too. He- my friend- believed Wickham when he said that his family wouldn't accept him. Circumstances-uh- being as they were, my friend was eager to offer his-uh- assistance and this person is probably on their way already. I will simply be calling to point them in the right direction."

Edward looked shrewdly at his brother in law, "How would your friend know where to go? Why do I feel like I don't have all the information here? Is it true that after all this worry I might get my son back with little more trouble to myself than what I've already undertaken?"

"I don't want to get ahead of myself, brother, but this friend's family was all worried about this friend when he ran away, too, and things eventually turned out OK. In this situation, you may have to consider pressing charges against Wickham."

"For abandoning my son who was running away in the first place?" Edward asked, "What could he have to do with it? And what good would it do to press charges against him for theft? He was a family friend, after all, maybe there was some misunderstanding."

"Dad you can't be that stupid. Wickham and Lydon were sleeping together and Wickham broke up with him and took the rodeo money." Kitty finally burst out. The entire family gawked at her. "If you can't get that bastard for breaking Lydon's heart, then at least get him for stealing….. What? I'm just saying what everyone else won't say. They're gay. It's fine if we don't talk about it, but NO, we can't say it out loud! Gee! I wonder why Lydon thinks everyone hates him."

"YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT YOU KNEW THAT A CERTAIN 'FRIEND' OF OURS WAS PRACTICALLY COMMITTING STATUTORY RAPE AND YOU DID NOTHING?!" Edward thundered.

"What are you talking about?" Kitty cried.

Elizabeth broke in, "Dad, I think I'm to blame also. I suspected but I guess I just didn't want to believe it."

He gave a withering look to her, "You. Elizabeth Rosalind, are too old for me to ground, and I've already grounded you, Katherine. What's the use, anyway? Everyone around here just does whatever they please. I'm going to my study, call me when my prodigal son decides to grace us with his presence so I can tell him that it's ok for him to be gay but not ok for him to run away." Edward turned on his heel and stalked to his study, slamming the door behind him. The family just stared agape at the door.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

"That went well." Mary said, wryly.

"I can't believe he just went back into his study to sulk." Mused Gardiner.

"I can't believe you suspected. I didn't realize it. Wykham is so… masculine. And anyway, Kitty, I believe you. You are too stupid to realize that it is NOT cool for an older guy to hit on a minor. But Lizzy! Why didn't you say anything. Statutory rape?" Mary looked between her two sisters.

"Actually, Mary, 16 is the age of consent in this state. The only thing we can press charges against Wickham for is stealing the money. As for your shock at the situation, if it were a 17 year old young woman with a twenty something man that she thought she was in love with, would you be so disapproving?" Elizabeth asked.

Mary nodded, adamantly, "YES! The age difference is too much."

"I agree, Mary. We aren't living in the old days when older men married teenagers." Said Jane.

Elizabeth sighed, her shoulders drooping, "Honestly, I didn't approve either. You are right. I should have tried to do more than I did. I went to him and tried to get him to talk to me, but he wouldn't. I shouldn't have let it go. I will always feel horrible about it. But, while all of us are having this drama, Lydon is still missing. And by the way, Mary, there are lots of masculine gay guys and lots of feminine straight guys and everything in between."

"Yeah, look at your boyfriend!"

"Kitty that's enough." Jane chided. "Shouldn't you be helping Tia or something?"

Kitty would not go so easily. "Actually, I did want to say that I think Uncle is right. It is a good idea for someone we don't know, but who knows Wickham, to find Lydon. He DOES think we all hate him. This person can help him understand how Wickham lied".

"Well, I suppose there is nothing for any of us to do but be useless while we wait for our hero or heroine to bring him home. Maybe dad is right." Lizzy said.

"Nonsense, I think we can consider what we might do differently. It's not just Kitty or Lizzy, all of us contributed to this in some way." Everyone turned to Jane, nodding in agreement.

The family that remained in the kitchen talked about what could be done to change their situation, and to help Lydon feel good about himself and accepted while taking responsibility for the consequences of his actions. The evening was already at a late hour when their discussion began, and everyone retired after midnight, but little slept was gotten by anyone other than Francesca who was sleeping off another dose of medication.

Everyone was relieved from their restless beds at about 4 in the morning. A cell phone had rung, the Gardiners, Bingley and Jane stirred. After several minutes, Jane roused Lizzy and the rest of the family who gathered in the kitchen.

The 'friend' had located Lydon. For some undisclosed reason he had only now come from talking with Lydon. He was safe, and housed, in El Paso. The 'friend' was trying to work out the rest. Being relieved at this news, Kitty and Collins turned in to get more sleep, while everyone else stayed up.

Lizzy had enough of waiting and uselessness. She doodled in her sketchbook, allowing thoughts to meander on how to handle the situation better upon Lydon's return. Tia took advantage of the early hour to start cinnamon rolls while everyone drank gallons of coffee and tea. Jane knitted on the couch, her legs resting over Bingley who was half dosing, half watching morning news. Francesca was still out. Edward remained ensconced in his study, talking to Gardiner. Mary found comfort in having Collins nearby, dirt under their nails, out in the vegetable beds.

Everyone broke their fast together, ravenously consuming the generous portion of the Farm's eggs with green chile and cheese, home grown sausage, cinnamon rolls, juice and their choice of warm beverage. Everyone was feeling improved after the repast.

Elizabeth tried to question Tia and Uncle, who continued evading her questions about their role in the situation. Jane and Bingley also acted strangely distant from her, yet had a lot to say behind closed doors to Tia and Uncle. And that story about Uncle's friend. It sounded familiar.

Deciding she had enough of their silence, Lizzy decided to try talking to her father, who was still sequestered in his study. Gardiner had abandoned the study after breakfast and had his laptop in another part of the house, so her father was quite alone. She found him looking at old pictures.

* * *

Southern Point

Her father wiped his eyes. "My boy is so much like his great uncle Frank it's not even funny."

"I don't know, daddy. Maybe Frank had a harder life."

He sighed and looked up briefly from the photos. "You're right, Lizzy. Honestly, that is why I thought maybe his dying in the war was a blessing. Times were tougher on people like Frank and your brother, Lizzy. Why else do you think I never talk to him about it? Kitty's right. People didn't talk about it. As long as you did your duty to your family and manned up, no one had a problem. But Frank loved to push the limits, and he wouldn't have settled for it. He probably would have flaunted his ways, and, honey, I'm ashamed to say that in those days, people could be downright violent about a man loving another man."

She shook her head, "Well, daddy it still happens."

Intent on the pictures again, not meeting his daughter's eyes, he continued, "I remember that time in junior high that Lydon came home with a black eye, and he wouldn't talk about it. I thought it was just the normal bullying but looking back…"

Lizzy put her hand on her father's shoulder. "What would you have said, Daddy? Or done?"

His voice broke. "I don't know, dearheart. Maybe I'd tell him the stories I'm telling you. That would've confirmed that he was in for trouble for being who he was."

Lizzy shook her head. "I think it is a mistake to say that it is a blessing Frank died in the war. We've all missed his company- and Lydon- he might have benefited from it the most."

He finally looked up and put his arm around his daughter. "You're right. I missed the opportunity to tell Frank I loved him for who he is. I'll be damned if I let the same thing happen to Lydon. I feel like a horrible father to think I didn't acknowledge it when I could have. I thought maybe he was just a late bloomer. Now I see I couldn't have been more wrong on THAT count. Bastard, Wickham. I never have thought I'd want to take a shotgun to my SON's beau. But, such is the nature of life." They hugged for a time as Edward let his tears flow silently.

Gardiner interrupted their tete a tete with further news. Lizzy, not a little annoyed by being banished from the study, and gave thunderous looks to Jane, Bingley and Tia. The former two at least had the grace to look guilty. Tia, however, took Lizzy to task for her disrespect. Lizzy schooled her expression, mumbled a polite apology and stalked to her room, so she could wait for news without her facial expression offending anyone.

Jane retrieved Lizzy minutes later, saying that her father wanted to see them in his study. He had his laptop out and he'd printed a flyer out for Jane and Lizzy to read…..

* * *

Can anyone guess who is the 'friend' helping the Bennets find Lydon? What about the flyer- any ideas as to what it is about? Reviews are very much welcome!


	28. Chapter 28

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

The dialogue in Spanish/Spanglish is taken from what I know. If anyone sees any corrections, let me know. If anyone feels I've portrayed the 2 characters Gera and Carrera inaccurately or unkindly, let me know.

 _In Between Days: A Lydon outtake_

His mind was racing:

 _That fucking bitch. It's not his baby. What a whore. She just got him in bed that one time and now he's going to be stupid and marry her. Fuckin A! He must have been pretty fucked up to even go to bed with a woman, especially her. She's a fuckin dog! I bet she's the one who talked him into leaving me._

 _He's right. No one really accepts gay relationships. He's just doing it to pass._

 _What the fuck were they doing, leaving me here, anyway? I can't believe it._

 _Now what am I going to do?_

 _I have nothing to go home to. Wicked made that hell livable and now that's gone…_

 _At least I have my money and a fake ID._

 _SONOFABITCH! That fucking bitch stole my fucking money and my phone! I'll kill her!_

 _I better get the hell out of here._

 _Where will I go? What will I do?_

 _Damn I'm hungry._

 _Fuckit. Kitty won't tell mom and dad, not if I figure out a good story to tell her. And she has money she can lend me from her account. I'll pay her back. Besides, she owes me._

"Collect call from Lydon Bennet."

"I'll take it. Lydon? What happened, you asshole! We were going to go party together and then you flaked out on me."

"I'm so sorry Kittycat. Wickham, he left me. Millie said she was pregnant last night. We were all going to Vegas when we woke up this morning, but I'm the only one here, now and they took everything! I don't know what I'm gonna do!"

"Wait! I'll go get dad, he'll know what to do."

"NO! WAIT!"

"What is it Lydon?"

"Kittycat, it's a secret. Dad can't know! No one can know. No one accepts me. They all hate me. I just need some help from you. You're the only one I can trust baby sister."

"Really?"

"Yeah. 'Course. Just do me a favor and don't tell ANYONE where I am."

"That's easy, I don't exactly know where you are. Just in El Paso."

"What I mean, Kittycat, is that you gotta tell mom and dad something so they don't look for me, and you gotta do the same for Aunt Phil, Uncle D, and whoever else comes lookin'."

"Alright, since it's a secret. I'll do it for you, big brother."

"I really really need you to do something else!"

"OK. Anything to help you."

"Can you get some of your Fair money and send it to me? I'll pay you back. Please, Kittycat? I promise."

"Alright, Lydon. How will you get it?"

Looking out the window, he was relieved to see a dollar store/ cell phone store that also happened take wire transfers. "Wire it to _."

"OK. Big brother. I love you."

"I love you too, Kittycat. Bye."

After the exorbitant wire transfer rate, the money Kitty sent him was only enough to pay for the room for that night with a dollar left over. He walked to the only place he knew after he bought a candy bar for breakfast.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

"Alright, alright, I'm coming. G-dammit who the fuck comes to the door of a club owner at this hour?" Gera shuffled to see who was pounding on the door, he fingered the baseball bat kept nearby in case it was someone who was up to no good.

"What can you say, you're popular, darling. Go see who it is and then come back into bed." Carerra called, from down the hall, flipping his sleeping mask back on and rolling over.

Gera opened the little door to see who was outside, disturbing his beauty sleep. "Jacob! You look awful, pobrecito! What happened?"

"Uh, well, that's why I'm here. Can I come in?"

"Of course muchacho, hold on." The chains and locks clinked and clanked as Gera unlocked the thick security door. "Y que la! You look hungry. Come, let's get some breakfast." He herded his friend into the kitchen and scurried about fixing migas con chorizo. "Now, you must work for your breakfast, here. cut these up like so. And tell me what happened to you."

His friend worked while he told the story. "Wicked got called back to, uh, Colorado, suddenly. I had to give him our money because his, uh, Uncle is in this hospital dying and he needed the money to get back home and, uh, stuff."

"That must be awful." Gera lamented as he kept working.

His friend's voice broke. "He's all I have left. You know how it is. My parents hate me for being gay. They won't even talk to me. I earned a bunch of money I got from my rodeoing but they won't let me touch it."

Gera looked up, "Well, why don't you help out here for a little bit until you figure things out. But I got one condition. I see how you two are with the glass and we don't do no glass here. Here, me and papi we say no glass. Entiendes?" He wiped his hands and held one out to shake on it.

The handsome young cowboy shook on it. "Yes, I understand."

"And another thing. That Wicked is no good, muchacho. Perfect name for that douchebag if you ask me. You're too good for him. I mean, I'm sorry that his Tio is dying and all, but why you gotta go and give him all your money? Just because you're together it don't mean one is better than the other. Not for no reason. No. He should have thought of his man and left you some money. Look at you, you're starving and your clothes are dirty. What kind of man is he to treat you like that even if he is so sad about his Abuelo is so sick like you say."

"Who would want me?" The young man's voice was mournful.

"I can't believe you say this. Are you blind? A young hot cowboy like you? I got lots of friends who ask about you. You could have your pick. Just don't go for some lying no good man who can't get his story straight about who's sick, you silly fool." Gera shook his head.

Lydon had the good sense to blush about being caught in a story. "Ah! I knew it! You couldn't even keep your story straight-sick tio, abuela, my ass! That no good man left you and took your money didn't he?" When his young charge blushed harder, Gera had the good grace to know when to stop prodding. "Get yourself a papi like me. Or maybe I'm the papi, since it's my club."

"Who're you calling papi now, my little cub?" Carerra yelled down the hall.

"You better have some clothes on papi, we have a guest." Gera answered back.

Emerging from the bedroom, the burly man enveloped his young friend in a hug, muffling his greeting, "Hola Carrerra!"

Carerra settled onto a barstool while the other two men finished breakfast. After a few moments he got a gleam in his eye. "Papi, remember those rodeo nights that were such a big hit?"

Gera chuckled, "Aye. Now those were the days, we had all the bartenders dress up in daisy dukes and everyone wanted to ride the bull."

"Ooooeee I love it when you talk dirty, honey." Carerra got up and hugged his man from behind, smacking him on the cheek. "We have a real live vaquero here; we should put him to good use!"

Both men looked at their young friend and Gera answered "I love it! Can you ride a mechanical bull?"

The young cowboy smirked "I can ride anything you put between my thighs."

Carerra grabbed his man's tea towel and swatted 'Jacob' on the rear. "Slut!"

They all laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks. After a hearty meal, the three men spent the better part of Sunday downstairs, cleaning up the bar and getting everything in working order. The two older men were strong, but after some time setting up the heavy bull, they were huffing and puffing.

They really enjoyed having the younger man around to help with the hardest physical labor. They hated to admit it but Carrera and Gera weren't as young or as strong as they used to be. If Lydon noticed their self consciousness, he generously ignored it, instead heaping the men with gratitude for giving him a chance.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

Hours later, the men cleaned themselves up, and returned to the the club area to get things started. Since Sunday nights were generally slow anyway, Gera thought that he'd take things easy on Lydon and just use him as a cocktail server. Lydon ('Jacob') had to remember orders for drinks he never knew existed. He enjoyed the cute men who flirted with him.

Other times Lydon became annoyed, disgusted and even frightened when he witnessed the spectrum of behavior exhibited by his customers. Lydon was a beautiful, well fit young buck and men of all ages and types wanted him. On this night he saw that sometimes such attention was not welcome. He could definitely see that not everyone was as kind as Lizzy's theatre compatriots. He began to notice how Wickham's behavior was more like the men Lydon now wanted to avoid. He wondered whether his aversion was simple self protection or if it arose from his experience.

Some experiences he'd had with Wickham were more difficult to avoid. He was also offered to party several times, and it was really tempting to give in. Gera and Carrera kept a sharp eye on him and intervened often. Lydon felt simultaneously annoyed and grateful. He was also getting antsy. While his body didn't need the speed, his mind tried to trick him into thinking he needed it. Lydon had more than one close call. On one such occasion, Carrera pulled him aside.

"Muchacho, I have someone I want you to meet. You should take a break and have a burger or something and I'll find him."

Lydon was happily wolfing down some thick home fried kettle chips with aoli along with his sirloin burger when Carerra and a diminutive man with outlandish clothes walked up.

"Superman, meet my friend Lydon. Lydon, this is Superman."

"I'm Superman, Man of Steel."He put out his hand and Lydon became sick to his stomach as he saw the man's fingertips were dirty, scabby and ragged. That was not the worst of it. Even in the dim light of the club, Lydon could see the man had a deep sore in the curve of his elbow. It had a green scab that was weeping, and the angry color spiderwebbed from the site. That was enough to make the famished young man lose his appetite, and almost lose the food he'd just consumed.

"Watch out for bugs! There's bugs everywhere, Lex Luthor sent them to destroy the club." Superman took Lydon's fork and he tried to carve out bugs from the table. Lydon looked strangely at Carerra.

"Honey maybe you need to go back to your Fortress of solitude so you can soak up some of that Superman energy. Maybe I will call you a cab. What do you say?" Superman had already started mumbling to himself, following invisible bugs through the front doors. Carerra hurried after him and put him in a waiting cab, assuring his elderly friend got to a place where his septic wound would be taken care of. "Can you guess why I wanted you to meet him?"

"Yes."

"That is why we say no glass. No grass, either. You wouldn't want to ruin your figure with all the Doritos you'd be wanting to eat when you are stoned. And watch it on the booze or you'll drink our profits. Besides, you gotta earn your keep around here."

Lydon counted himself lucky that he didn't seem to be affected to the extent that Wickham was when he went without smoking. He has not required long to sleep it off. It had been days and he was feeling better and better- he realized that the extent of his urges must have been less. He didn't know what it meant- why he wasn't like Wickham or Superman. He was just thankful that he was ok without the stuff. He kind of liked being clear and thought he'd stay that way from now on. No hard partying anymore.

" Andale! Vamos!" Carerra playfully swatted Lydon on the bum, urging him back to work and out of his musings. As the night wore on Lydon, who worked hard on the farm, felt like he had never worked harder in his life.

He spend the next few nights in such a manner. He liked feeling part of this community but the work was hard and not to his liking. He was only motivated by earning his room and board. Lydon had been looking forward to the particular way he could contribute to the club, and counted down the days until he would no longer be a server, and instead be riding the mechanical bull and teaching eager patrons the same. However, before the club's ride em' cowboy night, Lydon's plans were changed.

* * *

Fine for Now

Jane retrieved Lizzy minutes later, saying that her father wanted to see them in his study. He had his laptop out, and there was a flyer with Lydon's image in full rodeo regalia. It announced: _Ride 'Em, Cowboy Night at Brighton's, with lessons from Authentic Rodeo Bronc Buster Jake Heath_.

Their father handed a printout for Lizzy to read. "It's a contract for Lydon. He's working at Brighton's! But how?"

"Read on, Lizzy," her father urged.

"The contract has him working there for the rest of the summer?" She regarded her father, "But don't you have to approve since he is only 17?"

"Read on, Lizzy." He made a flicking motion for her to continue.

She silently read the screen and knit her brows. "He actually has the gall to ASK YOUR APPROVAL for him to stay there? When he ran away?"

Her father scrolled down further. "Read this, Lizzy."

" _Dear Mr. and Mrs. Bennet,_

 _I send you my sincerest greetings and wishes that you will be comforted when you learn of your dear son's well being. I am grieved and shocked that he would lie to me about not only his age but also his identity. Worse, he also lied to me about your abject disapproval of his lifestyle. Although, apparently, this had more to do with that dog, Wickham's lies. I knew he was trash and I am sorry to say, I had no idea the extent to which he had influenced your son."_

Lizzy snorted-"Well that's an understatement!"

"Read on Lizzy."

" _However, one of his influences has at least led your son into better hands. He has been safe and sound, working very hard here in our club. While such a place may not be the best environment for most young men, you can be assured that my partner and I have kept him under close watch. I am happy to say that he has benefited from our influence."_ With this she looked up in puzzlement.

"I must admit they are nice men." Her father only arched his eyebrows at Jane's clear assertion that she'd met them before.

Lizzy, shaking her head, continued to read: " _I can see you have raised a hard worker and he is very good at what he does, namely, charming the patrons and being a most excellent teacher, giving mechanical bull riding and western dance lessons._

" _It has been good for business, and, if I may, good for your son's self esteem. He benefits greatly by seeing examples of people such as my esteemed partner and myself, as well as our community, who has welcomed him warmly. He may not have given his name and age, but his true character is known to us and we dearly love him._  
 _While I understand that Lydon is likely to be grounded and under lock and key, I would propose that he might be better disciplined in an environment such as Brigthon's where he has been forced to work very hard for his room and board, and make his own way. My partner and I would be happy to meet with you, Lydon, and anyone else in your circle, to discuss how to proceed. We would gladly enforce any sort of discipline you see fit while he stays here for the summer."_

"I don't know what to say! How did this come about? I daresay that eventually one of our circle would have recognized Lydon at that club, if he has truly been working there." Lizzy noticed her sister ducking her head at this and wondered what she had to do with the Gardiner's friend, how this friend helped.

Edward looked shrewdly at his daughters as he spoke, "Gardiner's friend went into the club last night and befriended Lydon. It wasn't easy, I assure you, not with those two keeping him under such close supervision. But our champion came through and Lydon had breakfast with him the next morning. After Lydon realized that Wickham had done the same thing to this young man, he agreed to come clean. I would have loved to have seen the expressions on those men's faces when they realized the man who'd been serving drinks was underage!"

Lizzy's eyes grew wide, "Dad! They're nice men and don't deserve to be put out of business by someone else's foolhardiness!"

Edward's tone had taken on his usual, sardonic quality. "But they aren't going to be, are they? Now, with my consent it will be better for business, Lydon can finally put all that energy to better use, and it all can be arranged with little inconvenience to his family."

Lizzy shook her head in disbelief, "Surely you aren't going to allow it!"

"Allow it? Who said anything about allowing it? If he wants to, Lydon can become an emancipated youth, and can make all kinds of allegations, true or not, about his family in order to get what he wants! If he wants so badly to be out in the real world, so be it!"

"Aren't you at least going to meet with the club owners and find some way to discipline Lydon?" Lizzy asked.

"Yes, yes," Edward waved his hand dismissively. "The friend suggested as much, also, when we spoke. I suppose I must."

Jane finally spoke, "I have a suggestion. Make him save the money he earns and first pay back Kitty then put the rest back into his account."

Lizzy nodded, "I agree with Jane, and also that you take up the club owners' offer of supervision. Tell them to not let Lydon go out without them for the summer, either. If they want him so badly, they can enforce his grounding. To keep him occupied, you can hire a tutor for him there, since he flunked out of most of his classes last semester."

"What did you know of that?"

"I may have been sick, Dad, but I wasn't dead. Even I could tell he was skipping".

Jane wasn't finished, "And another thing, Dad, why don't you have him go to El Camino Real Alternative High when he comes back in the fall?"

"Well, would you girls like to go to El Paso in my stead, also?"

"No, dad, I think it's about time you stood on your own two feet." Jane had given her last suggestion. With that Jane and Elizabeth left the study. Other family members were informed in a less dramatic fashion than the eldest Bennet sisters. However, Lizzy perceived the Gardiners and Bingley were unsurprised at this turn of events.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

After making a call to arrange a meeting in El Paso, Edward went in and roused Francesca. Soon after an ear piercing shriek of joy could be heard, after which were exclamations of their famous son the bronc buster, and how the flyer didn't put in his name right, and how he'd be rich with all those rich gay men tipping him, and then wondering why gay men would be so interested in rodeoing and western dancing anyway. The unwilling recipients of this information rolled their eyes at Francesca's ridiculousness.

Now that Francesca was awake again, and had heard her son's 'good news' she went on effusing on his fame and that he was going to be famous 'just like all those other gays.' Everyone tried to shush her, correct her, but Francesca would have none of it, insisting that people needed to be open about being gay, that was the reason Lydon left after all was that no one accepted her poor boy, and NO she would NOT stop talking about how proud she was of her gay son. She even left Collins speechless.

After making arrangements, Edward and Gardiner drove to El Paso. Soon after, Bingley announced he had some work to do, and that he was going to use the studio on campus. Francesca was already calling all her friends bragging that her son was a 'famous gay icon like Ru Paul'. With Tia, Mary and Kitty having everything under control on the home front, Lizzy and Jane decided to use their time creatively as well. Not to mention, they were happy to get away from their mother's crass enthusiasm.

Lizzy almost felt as if no secrets were between them again, as she and Jane settled in at their old haunt, the Costume Shop. Maeve gave Lizzy a key when she'd been hired at the shop, and she could come in and use it, so long as she was responsible with upkeep and cleanup. Jane agreed to help Lizzy work on her Primavera sewing project. It felt good to get back to her project, but she labored harder, trying to integrate events of the past week into her work. The work came about as a result of it. Now it would evolve as a result of it.

* * *

Well, where did you think Lydon was? Were you surprised? How do you like his 2 new mentors? And who do you think the 'friend' was?


	29. Chapter 29

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

Now that things have settled down in the Bennet's home, Jane and Lizzy are off working on a project, but it can be so hard to focus when one is in love...

We are coming close to the end here- It may get wrapped up next weekend.. we shall see

some MA references. If I've gotten any language or culture wrong or have been disrespectful, please PM me.

Reviews are most welcome!

* * *

Mr Lovegrove

While the sisters started out talking as they worked, earnest concentration eventually left each to her own thoughts. Lizzy left the shop having made a dozen resolutions about her life, but there was one she kept deepest in her heart.

She couldn't help but remember HIM while she was here. She could almost smell his fragrance, almost taste his lips, as he had hovered over her just here, where she knelt on the sturdy table, cutting fabric. She put these unbearable memories away, turning to other thoughts.

She contemplated the past several hours' events. Upon her return, she had been confronted with the seriousness of Lydon's _afflictions_ , as her aunt Phil so euphemistically put it. Now that Lydon's estrangement seemed to be resolving itself in a novel yet effective manner, Lizzy had to admit to an odd sense of estrangement, herself. While her family seemed to be clearly evolving into a different stage, she was no longer sure where she fit in.

Did it start at vacation? No, not then, before. Her mind, her heart, traveled back to her fevered illness. True, she had disconnected moreso then, but still, it was before. School and work held a unique emptiness after the show- after his proposal.

She sensed within herself that ambivalent desire that he had said something, expressed some sensibility that would have fit her own. Yet, when Lizzy asked herself what she would have wanted at that moment, she couldn't say. What she wanted then seemed reasonable, and yet, in the context of her current life, short-sighted. No, her most fervent desire was to see a destination transcendent from her own, and from that which he had first imagined, and proposed, however awkwardly he'd done it at the time.

There seemed little reason _now_ to pursue a course of action where _he_ was concerned, however. He must have surely regretted their last liaison, as he had not contacted her since. Surely if that was the case, she could find her way through this, like she'd done after Jane, after Cole, after everything. He may have served his purpose in her life already- to challenge, inspire and be gone. But if that were the case, she must have misjudged the seriousness of his proposal. Or maybe he had taken her own regrets to heart and couldn't face another one of her doubts, so often voiced after they'd… well…

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

Unconsciously she said aloud, "to think that he is in the world and thinking ill of me…"

"What?" Her sister looked up from stitching.

"Nothing Jane."

"I seriously doubt that is the case."

"Why would you say that?"

"I have my reasons."

"It's nice for you to reassure me, and part of me wants to ask you question to which you will be evasive. But no matter what you think you've observed, I believe you still have a certain propensity to believe the best of others. And yet, evidence shows in this case the situation is quite the reverse. I have too much dignity to beg you for information that you clearly don't feel at liberty to give. I can't go on waiting for him like this, either. I'm too proud to call him."

"Can I ask you something, Lizzy?"

She gave her sister a probing look, "If you actually think it can help, then yes. Otherwise, no."

Jane got that glint in her eye, "Well then, since you put it that way. How many times have you two had sex?"

"Five." Lizzy replied, through gritted teeth.

Lizzy could see the wheels turning in her sister's head, "And how many times have you fought or been otherwise separated?"

"(Sigh) Five!"Lizzy snarled.

Jane worked for a beat, then paused and looked up, "Did you ever think that maybe you need to call him, if only to work out whatever tension you two have?"

"Urgh!" An unintelligible sound, somewhere between a groan and a growl escaped from somewhere deep inside her- a prelude of the rapid fire response to come. "Me? Me? What about HIM?! I admit, I may like him a lot and want to fix things and I don't know what to do about it now because he left and I haven't heard from him. And if anyone thinks I'm easy just because I'd probably do him again, given the chance, then I don't care."

"Care to test that theory?" Jane had a clearly guilty smirk on her face.

"What? Are you going to go ahead and tell me what you and Charles have been so evasive about? And whatever it has to do with Darcy?"Lizzy was scowling at her sister.

"Well, I do have a reason to be evasive as you put it. The timing was wrong….. Charles and I are getting married!" The cadence, volume and tone of her voice accelerated drastically at the end.

"Omigosh! I am so happy for you! Jane. Really, that is so wonderful. You deserve every happiness-even if you are a pain in the ass sometimes, you are really the most deserving person I know, my dear sister." Jane and Elizabeth hugged and Jane showed Elizabeth her antique Art Nouveau engagement band, the one that she'd always admired at their aunt's store, which had been dangling unobtrusively from a ribbon around her neck. "You sly thing- wearing it this whole time. He is so perfect to get you this! How did he know to get this?"

Jane fingered the band, "Well I did say no to him at first. He proposed several times after I moved in. I think he only succeeded after Tia tipped him off about my tastes. This just shows how solicitous he is. He learned from his mistakes, and I think he benefited from someone else's. A certain gentleman who is going to be our best man."

Lizzy smiled in understanding, "I see. That's why you were so concerned with our 'tension'. There is no way I am standing up with him, I'll be humiliated. Jane, I love you- you know because I've wiped your butt when you needed help. However, some things are just too personal."

"Lizzy. You have to resolve this for my sake as well as yours. I want you both there and I won't have you making moon eyes at each other or sniping, only to embarrass people with being found in flagrante delicto in the coat room when you think no one will miss you, only to get in a fight or leave things unresolved YET again. You must be reasonable."Jane's brow furrowed with effort.

"Reasonable!? REASONABLE!?"Lizzy burst out.

Jane cut her off:"Lizzy, I know that when your claws are out, you really are more hurt than angry. And, I know that you wouldn't have sex with someone you merely admire, no matter how gorgeous or talented he is. Especially when you seem to have this reaction. It's not just about sex. If it were, you two would be happy to just be fuck buddies. I know that isn't in your value system but I think if it were with a certain type of man you could be persuaded."

"It should be a sin how good it is with him. But he seemed too good to be true, and intent on establishing that he, in fact, was. I hated feeling inferior. It was so confusing- wanting him so much but having that feeling"

"Lizzy, it has to do at least as much with you as it does him. You've had that chip on your shoulder about being inferior ever since mom didn't get you art classes in elementary school. So, you didn't take art. Get over it, you're an astounding clothier.

And about Darcy, as much as he can be pompous, I think he has learned from his mistakes. I also think he's worshiped you from the beginning, he just has awkward ways of expressing it- as ironic as that is. I think he was trying for that Svengali act for that reason. Despite all that, you love him and he scares the hell out of you, so you come out swinging every time he challenges you- or one of you runs away. I know I'm not naive in this, I know he has been in love with you for a long time. He still is, I'm sure."

"Alright, I will concede you the point that I need to get over my mother's withholding art classes from me and all the other stuff she's done, I need to see my own worth. I'm working on it Jane. But. About Darcy: You think this, you know that. You're so sure. Why won't you tell me details?"

Jane shook her head, "It isn't my story to tell. You could do this the hard way and not call him. You could have all this tension while you and Darcy are thrust into all of these wedding plans together and who knows what will erupt- and when. Or, as I've been trying to point out, you two can make up and make out sooner rather than later. Just not in public when Charles and I are getting married…. You know you need to straighten this out, so why don't you just deal with it before my wedding and make it easier on everyone?"

"He could really love me." Lizzy was stunned speechless briefly.

"My sources, and the substantial evidence I have, indicate yes, very much." Jane looked at her sister intently, awaiting a reply.

Finally Lizzy answered, "Alright. I can't think of anything to say to that. I'll try."

Jane raised her eyebrows, "What do you mean you'll try?"

"It means that I am suddenly exhausted and I can't think of anything else to do right now, especially since I'd have a 5 hour drive to see him, and I just want to be left alone right now, not chasing him all over New Mexico."

"Promise me you'll talk about it if you need to? This isn't like you- you usually deal with things and I don't want to see you running away this time."

"But I'm afraid for a reason, surely you see this. Remember the wisdom of Nietze? _'Don't look to deeply into the abyss or it will consume you.'_ Or something like that? Darcy is my abyss. I just seem to fall right in every time and it terrifies me because I haven't a clue what to do. I just want to focus right now on getting this work out."

"That IS reasonable. Can we finish up in a couple of hours and have a late lunch?" For the first time that morning, Lizzy readily agreed with Jane. 

* * *

Sooner than you think

The remainder of the morning, as she sewed, Lizzy made an uneasy peace with Jane's suggestion that she initiate calling Darcy. By the time they finished lunch at The Orchard Bistro, Lizzy had rehearsed what she would say in her head and was determined to call him when she got home. 

She really could not have helped that her plans were changed. It was with surprised joy that she and Jane greeted Lydon.

They were also happy to meet Lydon's new friends who had been invited back to The Farm while Lydon retrieved clothes and things he'd need for the last few weeks of summer, and his last day of 'freedom'. The men had only arrived to The Farm minutes before Jane and Lizzy. Introductions had been made and parties split up by the time the elder Bennet sisters arrived.

Lydon was outside proudly showing his friends 'the real thing,' giving Gera and Carerra a tour of the corrals to meet Eos and then meandering around the rest of the acreage. They met Jane and Lizzy with polite enthusiasm, and continued their tour with their 'entourage'.

Francesca was close behind the men pointing out other areas of interest, like the orchard, and Mary's garden. Mary and Collins were both inclined to be present to assure that nothing got trampled and to answer any questions the men had. Kitty was eager to follow her brother and his friends around, as usual. She was rewarded by their attentions when they wanted to see a 'real fair queen'. Barrels had been set up and she took Eos on a couple of circuits, the men cheering her on.

Both men had spent most of their days in the big cities of metropolitan Juarez and then El Paso and were reveling in their experiences on a real farm. The men squealed at the 'adorable' rabbits, oohed and aaahed at the verdant garden and enthused over all things 'farmy'. Edward remained outside long enough to be amused by their reactions, but when he got warm, he moved back inside, keeping vigil at 'his' wingback chair in the TV room, watching the events through the picture window, smiling to himself.

Meanwhile, Lizzy and Jane had abandoned the tour to go inside themselves. There, Bingley, Tia and Uncle were chatting intently with another unknown young man. When Lizzy and Jane approached, Lizzy was introduced to Koko. Lizzy sensed a certain familiarity that Jane, Bingley and the Gardiners maintained, confirming their involvement in the scheme.

Lizzy inquired of the group what the plans were for Lydon's return and learned that indeed Francesca and Edward had signed the contract along with Lydon. He was going to do mechanical bull 'shows', as well as teaching both the mechanical bull and country dancing. This was to take place under the strict supervision of Gera and Carerra.

Koko explained he was just 'along for the ride', although Lizzy imagined this was the 'friend' of whom Bingley spoke. More than once she saw Charles and Koko talking to the side, as if they'd known each other for a long time. What surprised her, and sparked her suspicion even more, was Koko's clear interest in her. "It is so nice to finally meet you! You are every bit as enchanting as I've heard!"

Lizzy regarded him with suspicion, "Strong words coming from Lydon."

"Oh, your brother says good things about you but you are admired widely!" Koko replied, indicating that someone else found Lizzy enchanting. This earned an odd look from Lizzy. Koko smiled enigmatically. "But I want to get to know you myself, so tell me everything. Are you a fine dancer?"

Lizzy looked at him oddly,"What kind of question is that?"

Koko, clearly enjoying himself, answered, "Well, your brother is very good, I thought…."

"Oh, yes, well of course we all know how to square dance and country dance. Jane and I prefer to go clubbing when we can, however."

"I bet you tear it up on the dance floor at clubs! A real sex kitten, rawr!" Again Lizzy looked at him strangely and Koko toned down his teasing. "I hear you make costumes-do you wear them when you go out? You know, I could easily see you with a butterfly cape, Florence Welch style."

At that, Lizzy giggled. "You seem to have very decided ideas about clothing. Do you have more than a passing interest of the sartorial persuasion? Are you offering to dress me, perhaps?" She didn't know what to make of what he attempted to imply, but could tell he was getting a lot of good natured amusement at her expense.

"I have my hands full with my brother and his friend. They want my help, and then they think I make them look not straight enough. I wish they'd make up their mind. Ah well," Here Jorge ventured a glance at Bingley, "one of them has a soon to be wife who will be helping him, and with any luck, soon so will my dear brother. He needs someone to look after him, poor thing, he's certainly had his hands full with me. At least things turned out well in the end, thanks to him."

Lizzy's eyes widened, wondering internally. She only commented, "He sounds like an ideal older brother."

"The best. But I always wanted a sister." He pinned her with his eyes.

"Are you trying to set me up?"

"I don't know, are you available"? He asked but, again, the question seemed to imply more.

"Really Koko, you're incorrigible." Lizzy regarded this fair man, who was about her age. He certainly had a pretty face. "I have someone to call, but if that doesn't work out, I just may need someone to mend my heart. If he looks anything like you, maybe I'll take you up on it." Again, Koko smiled enigmatically. It was really unnerving.

Koko redirected the conversation, which Lizzy noticed, but was both too polite to do anything but allow it. On his request, she and Jane showed him their work, and the minutes flew by. Soon, it was time for the men to head back in order to get the club ready to open that night. Everyone assembled by the car to say goodbye. Lydon went down the line, hugging each family member while Francesca was loudly crying and offering useless advice. When he got to Lizzy she quietly told him how much she liked his friends, and how thankful she was for what they'd done for him.

Lydon replied, "They were wonderful, but the real reason I'm even here, and not still trying to hide, is Koko."

She raised her eyebrows, "So, he's not just 'along for the ride?'"

"Oh, no. He's the one who convinced me about Wickham's issues. And when he told me how Wickham had turned him against Darcy…." With that Lydon clamped his mouth with his hand.

"Who?" She interrupted.

"Oh lordy, that was supposed to be a secret, sis. Gotta go!" And with his usual quickness, Lydon had finished his goodbyes and was ensconced in the Toyota Cruiser, waiting to go back to his temporary home.

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The family was still milling about out front, taking their time to go back in. Lizzy turned to the Gardiners, Bingley and Jane. "Would someone care to tell me more about what my dear brother just spilled?" All looked at one another guiltily.

"Fine. If none of you have the cojones to speak, I will." Tia came forward, putting her arm around Lizzy and steering her toward the guest bedroom where the two could talk more privately. "It is my understanding that Darcy had to leave the resort because Catalina does not allow 'canoodling' with the guests. Do you have any idea who he would canoodle with, mija?"

Lizzy blushed and looked down. Her Tia continued. "Anyway, when he got back, he had to arrange for someone to take his place, and so he called Caroline because she loves to kiss Catalina's ass and wouldn't mind taking time out of her summer, even changing her plans to go do that very thing. It is my understanding that Darcy's been looking into properties in Dona Maria. For some reason, he thought it would be nice to come back here. Do you have any idea why that would be?"

Lizzy stuttered, Uh, maybe the University wanted him back?

Tia flicked her wrist, "Whatever. Fine, don't talk to your Tia. I will still tell you the rest of the story. You want the rest of the story?" Lizzy nodded. "Well there he was, making arrangements, when he got a call from Bingley that Lydon was missing. While Jane came down, Bingley stayed in town to help Darcy make other arrangements with someone who might be able to better understand the situation. Darcy and Bingley had called Darcy's brother, Jorge, or Koque-his club friends call him Koko. Now, I know you are not sonsa and neither am I. I suppose you can figure out why Jorge would be able to help."

"Yes."Lizzy sighed.

"And I suppose you can understand why Jane is convinced that Darcy still loves you." Tia's hand was on her hip as she looked at her niece accusingly.

"Why didn't she tell me?" Elizabeth asked.

"Maybe you're asking the wrong people the wrong questions." Elizabeth conceded this point, and agreed that very soon, she would, in fact, talk to the right person.

The mood that night was generally festive as Bingley and Jane thought it appropriate to announce their engagement. Lizzy felt celebratory for an additional reason. Maybe she, as the maid of honor, could in fact, be quite amiable with their best man. That evening, Bingley and Jane went to town for a date, while the rest of the family settled in to watch one of their favorite movies, Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Lizzy had her sewing out and while she watched the movie, she was putting the finishing touches to her project. She planned to talk to Darcy but told herself that now was not the time.

* * *

Run into those wild places

The next morning, Lizzy woke uncharacteristically late. This was possibly because she hadn't been able to sleep for wondering what to say to a certain person. Perhaps this is why she decided she wanted to return to the jewelry studio to work on other projects.

Everyone else had already gone into town. Apparently Tia wanted to get some things for her kids while she was in Dona Maria. Francesca and Kitty accompanied her. Gardiner had gone with Edward, Mary and Collins to some equipment yards in town.

Jane and Bingley were the only ones left at home still. They sat, eating breakfast.

"I think I hear the anvil calling me." Elizabeth announced.

"So you'll be in the studio, then?" Jane queried.

"Tell mom I plan to make it a long day- I'm not going to be at dinner." Lizzy informed her sister, as she, poured some cereal.

"What makes you think I'll be here? Charles and I are going out all day- and most of the night- celebrating."

Lizzy looked up from her bowl. "Where are you going?"

Jane had a faraway look in her eye, "I don't know- a romantic walk on the dunes of White Sands, a candle light tailgate dinner on the Rio Grande, laying on a blanket in the desert with stars all around… we'll think of something suitable."

"You aren't as beautiful when you're smugly in love, sister dear." Jane and Bingley left soon after, for parts unknown. Lizzy finished getting ready for a day in the studio, and grabbed her toolbox, suddenly energized with a need to put her hands to expressing what her words could not yet say.

As she was preparing, Lizzy ignored her phone's buzz several times, assuming one of the Bennets was calling to bug her about something for which she had little patience at the moment. Sure enough, when Lizzy checked her cell, it indicated that she had gotten 7 calls in about 30 mintues: Mom, Kitty, Kitty, Mom, Aunt Phil, Mom, Kitty.

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In a mood to ignore them- a trait she shared w/ her father- Lizzy did just that. However, just as she was out the door, her phone rang yet again. Assuming it was but another Bennet, calling to bother her again, she tersely ordered "Stop bugging me! Geez!"

A subdued voice answered; "I'm sorry, Elizabeth, I was just calling to…" the phone was silent and Lizzy was too impatient to wait for the silence to end

"To what?" She asked, recovering. "Sorry- you caught me by surprise a second ago. In the past half hour I've gotten calls back to back from my family- they're driving me crazy and I'm just trying to get out the door to the studio."

"I don't want to bother you, then…. um…Goodbye…." Darcy was about to hang up when he heard Lizzy's frantic response.

"No, Wait! I want to thank you for what you and Jorge did for Lydon!" Lizzy held her breath and the seconds seemed to pass very slowly as she awaited a reply.

Finally there was a sigh on the other end. "I didn't want you to know."

"Whyever not?" Lizzy stood in the doorway awaiting his reply.

"I want you to feel like we're on equal ground and you've gotten upset before when you thought I was trying to arrange your life, for my purposes. I wanted to stay out of this because I only did it for you. If your feelings are what they were when we last-"

"Yes!" She interrupted, "I mean, do you mean the time in Sedona when we last-"

"Yes." He confirmed.

She stuttered, "M-m- my feelings have undergone a material change."

"Oh." The sound of disappointment was palpable.

Lizzy continued, "What I mean is, my feelings go deeper than I've ever known. I know that you've made me a better person, and that I could be a better person without you. I've been putting my energy into that for the past few months, that's what I realized. But I don't want to be without you. I don't know what would have been the solution when you proposed; I've been trying to figure out how it could have worked then. I still don't know. But I do know that I regret dismissing you then, as I did, so out of hand."

Darcy answered, "Well all the same, I'm sorry for what I said, when I proposed. I'm sorry for my lack of communication, my contribution to our misunderstandings…Except for the time when you got upset that I thought your family was too good for Wickham, because I'm right about that."

"Well then I guess there is something we agree on. So, I understand there was a particular reason for your abrupt departure from Rosings?" Lizzy's teasing laugh was a confection for his ears. He'd missed this side of her. What was he thinking- he missed every side of her.

"Ah, yes, I left before I could pollute the atmosphere of Rosings for meddling with the guest, as it were. Catalina doesn't exactly take to that – you know, ethics…."

Lizzy couldn't tell whether his voice was tight or if he was dryly poking fun at their mistakes. "Then I guess I need to say I'm sorry for being so determined to misjudge you. I have a tendency to think the worst, when, in your own way you're being sensitive."

"Especially sensitive where you're concerned." There was no mistaking the tone in Darcy's voice this time. It was avaricious, and Darcy greedily accepted the involuntary sigh of delight that was Lizzy's response.

"Well, I guess we can call a truce right now."

"As always, Ms. Bennet I am at your disposal anytime- in case you need to hammer out any details of the Bennet-Darcy peace agreement. 5 hours really isn't very far to travel…"

She could almost see the tendrils of seduction that were curling toward her and could definitely feel their pull- she had the urge to stay home and have phone sex- or even better, get in the car and drive… This time, she had a shred of awareness- possibly due to the conditioning of pain that came after their every sexual encounter. She wondered in a flash if she would now have the urge to get into an argument or take flight every time the man gave her an orgasm…

"What are you thinking about?" Darcy's seductive drawl again pulled at Lizzy.

This time, she knew she had to resist temptation to give into the pattern. It was hard to do something new. "I don't know if I should tell you this but I am afraid we've conditioned ourselves to have an argument or some other kind of misunderstanding after sex. I think we need to get a few things straight and I really am not in a place to do that right now. I really want to just go to the studio. I need to think. Falling for you is scary."

"Afraid of falling into the abyss that is William Darcy?" Darcy drily joked. "Smart woman."

She noticed his comment. "Where did you get that?"

"What?"

"The abyss remark. Have you been talking to Jane?"

"It was something that an analyst friend said to me recently." Darcy answered.

Lizzy frowned in contemplation, "That's a coincidence; I told Jane you were my abyss awhile back."

"Not a coincidence, then. I believe my friend would call it a synchronicity. I think it is a confirmation that you should trust your instinct." Darcy commented.

"What exactly do you mean?" Lizzy asked.

"Uh, well, it's hard to explain without sounding self serving, but, basically since you got the same message twice, without any cause for the pattern, it's like the universe, or your intuition, is trying to tell you something, and that you should listen. As much as I'd love to see you in an instant, I think you are right to wait until it is your right time. I have to trust that and so do you. I only hope it is sooner than later." His words crystallized their dilemma.

"You mean you understand that I can't rush over to see you, even though I now admit to my feelings about you?"

"Yes. I'm ready, and at your disposal. Anytime. If you need to talk about this or…no, I won't say it- as much as I want to tell you all kinds of seductive things, I'll wait until we do see each other. Then, Elizabeth, someone will have to restrain themselves or I might just overwhelm you with my ardent feelings. They may just consume us both."

Lizzy let his words sink in and the phone was momentarily silent, then she answered, "I will. I mean, I will give you a call soon. Don't get too proud of yourself but my head is do need to talk more."

"Well I can't help but be a little self satisfied. I doubt there are many who can render you speechless." And in so many ways, they both thought, ruefully.

"Well, uh, it was nice talking to you….uh…well,…."

"Lizzy? Iloveyou." The words tumbled out of his mouth.

"What was that? She didn't really hear him." It was like he was the teacher on Charlie Brown.

He took a deep breath. "I. LOVE. YOU, Lizzy Bennet." He waited.

This time, his words were clear. "I can't fix the day or the moment or the hour when I realized that what we –have- is this deep love that I have come into. And I want to explore all of its mysteries with you. Soon."

He sounded anguished. "I don't want to push, but by the Goddess I miss you so much."

She responded, "I miss you. I love you, William Darcy."

His breath caught."Say it again".

"Only if you say it again." She teased.

"I love you." They said, at once.

"Can I call you later, this evening, when I get back from the studio?" Lizzy asked.

"Of course. Anytime. Interrupt me." His voice was urgent. She chuckled, knowing just how he'd really like to be interrupted. They told each other they loved each other again, just for good measure. After Lizzy hung up, she stood outside the door at a loss.

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What to do? She was all agitated energy, feeling bigger than herself, connected … his words eloquently manifested the unknown otherworld in which she inhabited. The dawning of this reality was what had scared her all along. As she turned on her Iphone music, Labour of Love started playing.

She decided to go by her aunt's store to see what kind of goodies she could find.

After the passage of several minutes Lizzy was in the back store room amongst random storage containers and bins with her Uncle D. She located all the treasures she needed- an antique metal frame, an old corset, a small, feminine flask, and a bag of old feathers, beads and findings harvested from long gone antique garments. As she was leaving, Lizzy accidentally knocked over a box. It jingled with old bells, tumbling to the floor, then she felt a thump on her toes. A heart shaped lock and key literally fell at her feet. Seeing this as a true sign, she added this to her collection and design plans as she set the rest of the box and its contents aright.

She took these items to the costume shop and set to work with the heavy duty tools, cutting a shape out of the corset and finishing the edges. She gathered a few items for later from the shop then went to the studio. Lizzy bought a range of metals from brass, copper, to sterling. She cut the plates of metal into strips and folded them lengthwise, then cut out shapes she took from an insect illustration book. The pieces were prepped and pounded until delicate butterflies emerged. Finally, Lizzy processed the pieces in various coatings to give them patinas. She saved one for enameling later.

It was late when Lizzy finally wandered to her bed, exhausted. She had previously found just enough energy to discard her filthy clothes and put on the old Mission Tee before making the anticipated call. It was her one token of hope to which Lizzy had clung after Darcy had left Rosings so abruptly. She found it in her bed the morning after their _interlude_. It smelled like his spicy, woodsy cologne and that clean smell that was all him. She had kept it in one of her plastic cosmetic bags, hoping to retain that scent.

The late night call between lovers, spoke of possibilities, meeting times, places. Lizzy wanted to get to a certain juncture with work. Darcy wanted to get to other junctures, which he made quite plain. He also made it even plainer that he respected Lizzy's decision and was at her disposal. That night, she dreamed of butterflies, among other things.


	30. Chapter 30

I regret not being able to post yesterday or the day before. I've been under the weather. Which means, we may come to the end of things next weekend instead of this one.

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

Dreams

The next morning, Lizzy awoke consumed with a need to finish her piece. She knew that she should attend to other work, but couldn't stop her creative flow. After a text to William about her general plans for working that day, Lizzy took her toolbox and bag of goodies and went back to the studio.

She started the enamel process of her last butterfly and as she waited, Lizzy started molding the metal frame and another plate of metal to fit the front of the corset where she had cut a piece out. She then attached the frame to this hole. The plate of metal was embellished with milagro hearts, pomegranates, eyes, hands, and other symbols* then it was given a fastener and hinged with the frame. The corset now had a doorway.

Lizzy fastened the antique heart shaped lock to it, attaching the key to a chain she'd made, the other end of which was attached to the corset. Similarly, she attached the flask and a silver comb with other chains she'd made.

When her enameling process was done, Lizzy left this piece and started on the frame for wings. First she took out some boning in the back of the corset and outfitted this so it fit with wings which she shaped. Lizzy then attached leather pieces to the frame and set the feathers to the leather pieces.

By this time, Lizzy had found the studio was closing so she went home with her piece. She stayed up until the wee hours sewing beads to the corset until her fingertips were raw and she was finally- at least for now, done. Lizzy set the piece on an old wire dress form to stay for the night. There was a flirty late night phone call from a certain dark lover. She wasn't entirely sure when the call left off and her dream began.

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She was running, hand in hand with William- he had those wings again. She felt a veil trailing behind her and a garland of flowers in her hair. They were laughing and seemed to be celebrating as their circuit led them through these sorts of barns that had celtic frescos inside their walls, they ran through one, and another and another- each barn had doors on either side for the purpose. People met them as they went, cheering them on. A woman in white she recognized only in her dreams set them on their way.

Through the second barn Maeve, and The Tailor greeted them laughingly. Through the next barn, Aunt Phil and Brigitte urged them on in each woman's characteristic no nonsense good humor. Then, Maya was there, whooping and clapping with Tia Magdalena as they passed through the third barn. Lizzy was shocked to see her mother with Catalina with Ina enthusiastically encouraging them through the next barn.

They emerged into the light and were met with green rolling hills and the woman in white reached out to gift them with some shiny objects in each hand, bells chiming and unearthly sitar like music playing when…

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"Lizzy! You have a Fed Ex package from Albuquerque." Lizzy was awakened as Kitty called to her. She had slept so late in the morning, the mail had already come. What is Aunt Lena doing sending me packages? Lizzy pondered. Then she noticed the mail stamp said Albuquerque but the address- Santa Fe- Pemberley Studio. Her heart started racing, heedless of her mind. Lizzy opened the package to find an antique blade and a small oil lamp of some kind of Eastern origin. She was stunned and dialed his number.

"How did you know?" She demanded.

"Well hello to you too. It's very nice to talk to you this morning." There was a pause and Darcy quipped: "Usually when people are on the telephone conversation is made. For example you can start by talking about the weather…"

"You know very well I have little use for such trite conversation." Lizzy teased back in her best haughty voice. "Seriously. Why did you send me a blade and an old oil lamp? Are you using your Jedi mind tricks to invade my mind, now? This is just to creepy."

"I hope in a good way."

Lizzy didn't answer him directly. "How did you know? Its impossible. Seriously. What's with the gift? Is this another one of your synchronicities?"

"Actually, it was a gift from my mother to me before she died. She said she'd be in Heaven, watching over me and protecting my heart until someone else was fit for the task. After you called the other night I had a dream that she told me I didn't need them anymore. So I made a logical guess as to who else would need them. After all, when we are together again, you may need light to check on me in my cave and if I'm a monster you'd have to defend yourself." He joked.

She sniffed. "As if I'd need a blade to defend myself. You know how sharp my tongue is."

"There you go trying to seduce me again. Siren." He was about to say more when she interrupted.

"Will. Really. You sent the perfect thing for the piece I'm working on now. I pretty much finished it last night. It is so freaky how you seemed to know. And, how it fit in with my dream." There was an intensity to her voice.

The back of his neck prickled. "Will you tell me about the dream?"

"I can't even begin to explain. Maybe later. You will get the idea when you see my newest pieces anyway." After hanging up the phone, Lizzy lingered on the objects that had been sent to her. She had kept them in the original package they came in; saving them for the moment came for the pieces to complete her composition. As she pulled these treasures out, a photo fluttered down to the table, landing face up.

Curious, Lizzy held it up, studying it intently. It was familiar. She undeniably had a tired, delicate look, and yet her luminosity beamed through the photo. Of course, both Darcy men looked like their Spanish mother, with those coal eyes and curly dark hair. But it was more than that. The photo was taken in a familiar Santa Fe background. But no, it wasn't just the back ground or her sons' resemblance. Images sifted through her mind, memories, dreams…. The recollection dawned and Lizzy located it, an heirloom in her mental attic.

*Milagros:

* * *

.

 _Early Summer, 1994_

 _The Dance that Changed Everything_

 _"Que Bonita! You are beautiful young women." Magdalena Gardiner cried. "You will be the belles of the cotillion. Your dance cards will be full in no time." Auburn haired Magdalena looked like a sister to the 3 young women, her glowing shoulders set off by a peasant style scarlet gauze top and classic carnelian and turquoise squash blossom necklace._

 _Even though she was petite, 14 year old Lizzy's already womanly curves accentuated by an age appropriate, modestly cut black lace dress corset dress with a black butterfly feature and full short skirt. The color contrasted with her long mahogany waves and berry stained lips._

 _16 year old Jane's straw colored mane was pulled back in a pompadour ponytail, wearing new Indian made silver Eagle feather earrings. She was a Nordic vision in a silvery white asymmetrical confection of a dress._

 _19 year old Charlotte's willowy frame was highlighted by a bias cut crimson dress bearing a neoclassical spiral print motif. She wore a fresh red Orchid in her hair, calling attention to her doe eyes and glossy new highlights._

 _Lizzy and the others chatted animatedly as they dined on tapas. The day had already been full of shopping on the Plaza, and pampering at the spa. They stayed in a suite at the elegant Inn of the Governors right off of Santa Fe's plaza and tonight Lizzy and the others were to attend Santa Fe's last cotillion of the year which included Santa Fe's oldest families. The weekend was in celebration of Lizzy's birthday and Charlotte's graduation._

 _With the light supper finished, the ladies made their way to a hall decorated in fresh flowers, piñatas, and strewn with fairy lights and lanterns. The hall was already lined with middle and high school kids some sitting in chairs or milling about. Others were making their way through the crowd, dance cards in hand, seeking out partners. Guests checked in and Tia Lena introduced them to a few of her friends' children._

 _Jane and Charlotte were instantly approached by several young men to fill their dance cards. Lizzy purposefully stood back and watched the scene playing out before her, fascinated by the elegant woman who had captured her Tia's attention._

 _"Que Milagro!" Magdalena suddenly spoke. Her aunt and this arresting woman caught each other's eyes, and then warmly embraced. "What are you doing here so early, Aphrodite? I usually don't see you in town until June."_

 _"What are a few days? My sisters suggested we come to this little cotillion, just like we went to as girls. Look, Jorge and Will are here. Jorge was so excited to come and Will is gritting his teeth as usual. Of course he thinks he's too old to come to this, but I dragged him here anyway."_

 _Studying this woman closely, Lizzy noticed the dark circles under the woman's eyes. The woman seemed to intuit Lizzy's fascinated stares and her eyes caught Lizzy's boring into her. It felt like the woman could see through her. After what seemed like an eternity of a moment, a handsome young man rushed over to his mother and took her arm. "Mom! I've been looking for you! Why don't we sit down?"_

 _The regal woman told the young man to run off and try to have fun. "You are only 21- there should be some older sisters here, eh? Now Go! Have FUN!"_

 _"Not until I find you a place to sit. And I'm almost 22, mom! I'm a man!" He wouldn't let go of her arm. Tia Lena assisted the party in finding a table as far away from the noise as possible. "Aphrodite, I let's catch up- what are the Darcys doing these days?"_

 _"Taking pity on a sick woman? I see you're falling for my son's tricks."_

 _"Nonsense! You know I love to visit. I plan on telling you all about the newest arrivals in our shop all the way from Teo." *Aphrodite laughingly agreed._

 _Lizzy wasn't surprised, although the other woman was quite formidable, her aunt had an easy charm. Meanwhile, the young man- either Jorge or Will, Lizzy didn't know which- worked his way through the crowd, finding refreshments and bringing them back to his mother. Although Lizzy assumed he was quite a bit older than her, she couldn't help admire him and had difficulty keeping track of both his movements and her Tia's conversation._

 _"Such a son! Look at him; any other son would be looking for a dance partner. Well, my consolation is that he will look after me in my old age." At times, The Woman involuntarily clenched the arms of the chair, conversing with Tia. Then it would pass and she would act as if nothing had happened. Seeing this gave Lizzy a cold pang, causing her to feel that she was looking at an apparition rather than a woman._

 _Lizzy soon was distracted from her observations, learning which Darcy was which when Jorge introduced himself. Even though this was his first year in cotillion as a 13 year old, Jorge was a social butterfly and danced with Lizzy, Jane and Charlotte._

 _They shared many laughs between sets. At one point, Jorge fluttered off to talk to some other friends and Charlotte was occupied with her dance card._

 _PPPxoxNMxoxPPP_

 _Meanwhile Lizzy was sat, half observing her peers and half watching her Tia and the Woman when she was startled by a screech:_

 _"You Clumsy Bitch! You almost spilled that all over my dress." An older teenage girl stood while Lizzy's clearly mortified sister knelt at her feet, apologizing, dabbing up what appeared to be sprite from the girl's shoes. An eager blonde young man who looked about college age approached and doted over both women._

 _Lizzy saw that the screeching one looked a lot like this guy and figured they were related. Soon after, she huffed, turned on her heel and pranced away. The guy chuckled and Lizzy figured that with an interaction like that, the two must be brother and sister. She was gratified to see her sister smiling and nodding, and that he had gallantly lead Jane to the dancefloor._

 _Afterward, Jane located Lizzy and introduced Charles as her knight who saved her from embarrassment. Lizzy could see her sister had a crush on the older Charles but Jane's placid demeanor was everything appropriate to their relationship of acquaintances too distant in age to be of any real interest in each other._

 _They took turns entertaining Lizzy about how his sister Caro bumped into Jane, spilling sprite on herself. He joked about his sister's moods, how big his sister's closet was at home, and how many party dresses she owned. At one point Lizzy's skin prickled and she noticed the serious Darcy guy- Will- awkwardly, watching his friend, standing a few feet away. Charles excused himself and went to his friend, leaving Lizzy moon with Jane over their eventful night. Everything was magical. "There's something about the night," Lizzy whispered. Jane asked what she meant and Lizzy said she didn't really know. It just felt different._

 _She continued to feel it when she got home- a vague sense of determination- which caused her to admit everything to her mother about the secret sewing lessons from Aunt Phil. Mama had raged until Lizzy pointed out that she could custom make Fair Queen outfits for Jane. Mama soon made peace with Aunt Phil and Lizzy was able to pursue in peace her love of all things sartorial._

* * *

While the events of that day- that week- so many years ago were not all known to Lizzy, she was able to piece her memories and subsequent discussions and events together to form a more complete picture. She could see herself and the others as players in scenes of a narrative that stretched years into the future. That vision filled her lungs as if she had just awakened from a coma or had emerged from a deep pool. She audibly gasped at the realization seeming to make an inner sound like the climbing symphonic cacophony at the end of A Day in The Life.

She knew what to do, when to do it. She had the keys. 

* * *

Maybe Lizzy is finally ready for her HEA?

comments are welcome


	31. Chapter 31

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own

PS in case anyone is confused: Jorge=Koque=Koko- name, family and friends' nicknames of Jorge Darcy, respectively. I researched this: please tell me if it is wrong.

* * *

Follow the Heartlines

Lizzy found her sister surfing the internet in quest of the perfect wedding ceremony. The current website showed a variety of weddings which took place in all manner of venues from antique airplane hangars to the top of a sky scraper. "You owe me one."

Jane looked up, then continued her nonchalant browsing, asking "Oh, and how do you figure that?"

Elizabeth was tempted to shut the stupid laptop on her fingers. "For keeping things from me, dear sister."

"Who, me"? Jane looked at her with those blue eyes.

Lizzy just rolled hers. "You forget who you're talking to. I know your innocent act. I can see you now, puppy dog eyes, trembling lower lip. Yeah, that's not gonna work this time. When did you know we'd met them before and why didn't you say anything?"

At least Jane had the grace to look guilty. "This is about Darcy, isn't it?"

Lizzy crossed her arms, "First of all, you aren't answering my question; secondly I am so not going to let you say you told me so."

"You're a party pooper. But never mind. I still have the satisfaction of knowing I was right, again." Jane smirked.

"Whatever." Lizzy snapped. "Spill. When did you know about our boyfriends being the older guys at that cotillion?"

Jane confessed, "When I was in Albuquerque moving things in Charles's house, I saw a picture of the Bingleys and Darcys together. I asked Charles about when it was taken. It was the night we were there. Ironically they had dinner where we had tapas but of course we didn't see them or wouldn't have known them if we had seen them- Darcy's mother wasn't there, apparently so Tia wouldn't have necessarily gone up to the rest of them who were at best acquaintances. Between the familiar backdrop and their clothes, something clicked and I asked Charles where it was. He described the night, complete with Caroline's dress getting ruined and told me about how some weird old psychic had said something and he realized he'd met me that night. Kind of freaky."

"Kind of?" Lizzy quirked her eyebrow, "And why would you keep such a thing to yourself?"

Jane shook her head, arms up in surrender, "I had no idea whether you were going to jump Darcy's bones or kill him at the time. I didn't think a picture would make a difference."

Lizzy shrugged. "Alright. I admit, that's an adequate reason. So, are you going to help me with Darcy or not?"

"Of course. As long as you two don't make a scene at my wedding. Because if you do, so help me, I will make more of a scene at yours."

A wicked smile spread over Lizzy's face, "It may be worth it for me to make a scene just to see how my demure sister would act. By the way, what kind of scene would we make? Would we be having public sex? A loud, ugly fight? I need to prepare to get it right."

Jane scowled, "Do you want my help or not?"

"Alright, alright. This is what I need…" So began yet another Bennet sister scheme, which, in time, was perfected by involvement of a Bingley, a Darcy and a couple of Gardiners.

* * *

"So, why do you insist upon suddenly having this 'brother time' on a Friday afternoon? And why, if you are so insistent, Koque, do you have nothing planned for us to do, not even a suggestion? When was the last time you even spent Friday home alone? You are up to something. I know it."

Most conveniently, Jorge's phone rang, saving him from having to tell more lies. He didn't know why he was so bad at this. He used to be so good at it when the lies were about being up to no good. Ah, well. This was going to have a good ending, so a bad lie was worth it. "Guess who's coming over? The Gardiners! Lena asked if she could bring me those Guatemalan shirts I asked her to get. I can't wait!"

Darcy shook his head, "So, I'm giving up my Friday night for brother time and you're throwing me over, now?"

"Of course not, I expect you to spend time with the Gardiners, too. After all they got you a shirt too." Jorge jumped up and down excitedly, "Please? I asked for brown to match your eyes."

Darcy snorted, "You are such a kiss ass sometimes."

"Oooh that's gross. Not to you."

Darcy rolled his eyes. "TMI little brother."

"Just remember that when you get all lovey with Elizabeth." Darcy noticed a certain gleam in his brother's eye.

"And what would you know of that?"

"Oooh, nothing." Jorge failed at acting nonchalant.

"You're lying." Darcy narrowed his eyes.

Jorge attempted diversion: "Did I tell you that Charles and Jane will be having dinner with us too?"

Darcy looked squarely at his brother, "Oh, so we're all having dinner, now? Why do I get a feeling that brother time was supposed to consist of something entirely different?"

The doorbell rang and Lena's impeccable timing saved Jorge's poorly conceived but well intentioned lie. "Look! They're here."

Jorge rushed to open the door and greeted his friends enthusiastically when Lena spoke up: "Those things you asked for, they're in the car."

"Oh, well, then, I'll go look at them…?" Jorge made vague motions with his hands.

"Yes! That's right." Lena nodded exaggeratedly. Darcy cocked his head at their stilted conversation. When he made to follow, Darcy was ordered by Lena. "NO! Stay here!" He frowned.

He could never defy that woman. So, Darcy stood there, on his doorstep, foot tapping impatiently as he heard more exclamations and then grew quite perturbed when he heard car doors shut and they drove away. "That little…..!" He was about to go call his brother when something caught his eye. It couldn't be. "Elizabeth?You're here?"

She went to where he stood and put her arms around him, "I'm ready."

He touched his forehead to hers, "For?"

"Anything with you. Well. Not anything. I mean, I want to stay in school and…. Oh we have lots of plans to discuss, but right now…." Where her words ceased, actions communicated everything. The couple was a tangle of limbs, and 2 tightly coiled bodies, breathing heavily and kissing ardently. She tore away.

He tried to grab her, keep her in his embrace, but she had evaded his grasp. "Come back here! We have a lot to catch up on." His tone was petulant.

"Get your bags." She ordered.

"But I…Oh, I see. That devious little…" Darcy's smile gave him away.

She grinned, finishing his sentence, "Dear brother? Well, you'll also have to thank the Gardiners who are here to watch the gallery this weekend while we have a night to ourselves and then we get busy packing tomorrow. Charles and Jane are here to help bring stuff back."

They ascended the stairs to his room as he gathered his things. "What do you mean?"

"I know you've been looking for houses in Dona Maria. We've come to help you pack up. I found the perfect place. I've got one condition." She wordlessly urged him to keep packing.

He stopped again, _"_ What's that?"

She answered, "I'm driving you in my car, and Jane and Charles will drive yours."

"But that's my…" He shook his head and quit packing in silent challenge.

She backed away and made to turn around. "Do you want to come back with me?"

"Yes." He relented and finished gathering things for the night.

She kissed him thoroughly. "Good, then, its settled."

Yes, I am leaving it here for now. I know, a short post compared to most of mine.

* * *

I hope to get one more up tomorrow sometime.

What do you think Elizabeth has planned?


	32. Chapter 32

Got delayed- I have a group I attend and that took the better part of a day, then there was a different creative project that I needed to complete. I make things around this time of year to capture the inspiration that has presented itself to me... anyway. random info.

onward:

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

And, yes, there is probably at least 1 more post after this before this baby is done.

* * *

 _Sanctuary_

MA, Definitely MA stuff going on in here.

It took them a little longer on the way down, but eventually the two made it back out the doors. As they got into Lizzy's car and she ordered him to put on a blindfold. They drove a short distance then she helped Darcy get out of the car and led him to be seated in a room fragrant with a tapestry of scents that, together, was indecipherable but mouthwatering. She took it off and he realized immediately the place's significance.

He also realized she was wearing a black butterfly motif corseted top that looked a lot like that dress from so many years ago. If there _was any question in his mind, it vanished when he spied the photograph in the center of his table setting._

 _It put him in mind of the first time he'd seen her in it..._

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

 _Darcy had taken his role as man of the family seriously when Dad wasn't around and felt it was important to keep a close eye on the easily influenced Jorge. He'd always hated Santa Fe cotillions, but would do anything to take care of his mom._

 _His aloneness was only multiplied at night when he tried to find solitude in sleep. Instead the dreams and visions came so frequently now. He often asked the Divine, the Creator to make them go away. He thought he was going to go mad from images that were red, white and black._

 _Always red white and black. Either give me an answer or stop these dreams and visions!_

 _His Rational self commanded whoever – up there- out there- would answer. What was more disturbing tonight was seeing Charles, Mom, Jorge, his 3 new girl-friends and their Aunt wearing these colors, bearing images from his dreams. Spirals, feathers, pomegranate seeds, a butterfly, bells, … there were so many dream references Darcy had to eventually tune them out._

 _I've got to take a break somewhere- the dreams are getting to me. It's just a stupid coincidence! A warring part of him cried: You know it's not true. Remember the man that Mom took you to see when you were younger._

 _Rational: Yes. He taught me how to shut it off._

 _Spiritual: That isn't all he taught you. He showed you how to control it and figure out their meanings._

 _Rational: I don't have time for that now._

 _Spiritual: Don't you realize? You are running out of time._

 _That caught his attention. Later that night Darcy wrote everything he could remember in his journal, the one Dr Miller had given him upon completion of his mentorship at Aunt Catalina's institute._

 _But while he was at the party, Darcy allowed his Rational self to continue to take care of his mother, help out Jorge to encourage these new friends of his to feel welcomed (finally. Some girls who accepted his brother for who he was) He was intrigued by Jane's younger sister, thinking that fine featured girl will become a most handsome woman and fascinate many a young man someday with her wit and creativity._

 _Sooner than he ever imagined, he would realize what the dreams were preparing him for, and he would mourn. His Visionary self also mourned the fact that it had been right. Not once did it gloat._

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

He saw it in her eyes. "Dearest, Loveliest Lizzy, you remembered when we first met."

She nodded, smiling softly, It took me long enough. "Do you really have some kind of intuitive impression?"

"Yes." His eyes bore uncertainty.

She reached out and held his hand, caressing his knuckles with her thumb. "When did you know?"

He took her hands in his and concentrated on them. "I had dreams and visions about you. Bits and pieces. I knew the moment I saw you at 101, you were the woman I had been drawing, but who you were- I figured it out when I saw your butterfly outfit. I remembered you." At this, he looked up.

She arched her brow. "Clearly your intuition is no substitute, however, for social skills."

This got him to smile, "No. A certain very clever, very talented woman taught me that if I want to be proficient at something, I must practice."

She massaged his fingers in suggestive motions, "I certainly hope that you want to practice at certain activities at which you are quite exceptional."

"Do you have anything in particular in mind?" He leaned in and whispered in her ear. "What on earth are we doing here when we could be doing that?"

She abruptly stopped, pulling her hands into her lap, in mock offense, "Seriously? Does it not occur to you that we are having official date?"

Darcy held his hands up in surrender. "I mean, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, I treasure making special moments with you and I look forward to our romantic dinner."

She burst out laughing and his eyes took on a look of frustrated intensity. She leaned in to caress his cheek and kiss him softly. "You silly man. After all these months have you still not realized how very, very much I love to spend time with you? This is what we missed. Not just the sex. We have a lot of dates to make up for. YOU have a lot of dates to make up for. The amazing sex is a given."

"Well, I had hoped…" The server had been waiting for the right time to take their orders and finally took his chance. Elizabeth and Darcy continued their flirting banter throughout the meal. At one point, Elizabeth's stockinged toe found its way up Darcy's leg. He promptly stilled it. "I thought you said that we were going to have a date?"

"Fine." She huffed. Elizabeth spent the rest of dinner peppering their conversation with innuendos intended to make her date extremely turned on. She didn't count on the fact that he had been turned on ever since their warm greeting earlier that evening. She was certainly playing with fire.

Elizabeth insisted on paying for dinner. When they got back in the car, he asked "Am I going to have to wear the blindfold again?"

"That depends. Do you want to continue to have a fun date and get some action, or do you want to be a party pooper and go home to your own bed?" Her tone was threatening.

He shook his head, pursing his lips, "OK, I'm game, put it on me."

"Good choice." She blindfolded him and drove to their destination.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

Again, she guided him through a doorway and he found himself pushed onto something springy and soft.

"I like where this is going." When she removed the blindfold, Darcy saw a room with several glowing candles. "Is this where you stayed when you were in town that time?"

She kissed him. "Very good guess."

Apparently this kissing thing was some kind of reward system, Darcy guessed. "You know, back then I supposed that you would someday be quite beautiful when you got older. I underestimated how very nicely you have, um, developed." His eyes had that familiar predatory gleam.

"Why Mr Darcy, are you commenting on my figure?" She was backing away, now, having few places to go, winding up against the wall.

He pursued her, leaving with no escape. "What do you expect me to do when you're wearing that top, displaying it to such an advantage?" His fingers traced the blouse's low neckline.

"I'm afraid to show you what else I've done with this old thing. You might eat me alive." She traced his lips and he took one of her fingers into his mouth.

"I'll eat you alive in any case, but if your figure might be any better displayed, who am I to refuse such an inducement?" She obliged by artfully removing her pencil skirt, underneath which were a silk garter belt, stockings and panties, all matching the corset. You are so talented. He ran his hands up her legs and her shapely hips, thumbs caressing the garter belt and her abdomen.

She began unbuttoning his shirt, kissing the skin that was revealed. "You were my muse for this little number."After unbuttoning the last, she pulled off his shirt. Her mouth now grazed his toned stomach and she caressed his hardness.

His fingers threaded through her hair as she undid his fly and her mouth continued its journey. "God, I love being your muse" he commented as she took his length into her mouth. She continued to work him until he was nearing orgasm, then Lizzy moved her attentions slowly up his body the way she came until their lips met again.

Darcy ran his cock back and forth over her drenched folds, slowly sliding in and out until he was thoroughly encased in her pulsating warmth. He grasped her ass, turning her to the wall and thrust into her, letting Lizzy, and himself, build up slowly. When she was at a plateau, he slid out of her, down her body and started devouring her.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Lizzy screamed as her sensitive flesh was persistently stimulated until she had a hard orgasm which Darcy drew out for seeming minutes, licking and lapping at her pussy with just the right rhythm and pressure. Another one started building and when Lizzy was about to come again, Darcy grabbed her and threw her on the bed, flipping her over to plunge into her pussy from behind.

Holding her hips, he slammed into her over and over. She came again, and her trembling core stimulated Darcy to come, too. Feeling it ebbing, Lizzy squeezed him as Darcy continued working in and out slowly, prolonging his orgasm. Finally his tip was too sensitive, he was spent, and he collapsed crossways on the bed, beside her.

They rolled to face each other, tenderly kissing and caressing. The air conditioner's slight breeze felt soothing and they fell asleep in such an attitude. Darcy awoke after several hours when his cramped body protested over the lack of leg space. He maneuvered them both right way up, where they remained the rest of the night.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

*Teotihuacan- amazing pyramid and monolithic ruins outside of Mexico city that has beautiful artisan work such as stonework, fiber art, etc, if you know where to look. IE The Dreaming House.

* * *

Old Dirt Road

"Can you please get that?" Darcy groaned as the phone rang way too loudly for so early in the morning.

The phone was on Elizabeth's side and he couldn't fathom how she seemed to take no notice of it. "Mrrrph."

"Fine. "Darcy reached across her to get the phone. "Why are you waking us up?...Well, it's too late now, we're up. Yes, yes, we'll be there after we have breakfast."

Lizzy was already getting ready by the time Darcy hung up from his brother's brief but unwelcome call. "This is the first time I've slept well since…."

"Since that last time we slept together? Yes, come to think of it. And I woke up too early then, too." Darcy grumbled.

"Just think, the sooner we get things sorted, the sooner we can get home and christen it." Lizzy moved to embrace Darcy and he pulled her down on the bed, as they started making out. Lizzy emerged breathless, "You are not a fair player. Now I don't want to leave this bed."

"Alright." He pulled away and got up, grumbling under his breath.

Before he got away, she grabbed his ass to emphasize her request, "Please, do remember where we were so we can continue this conversation."

He took the offending hand in his hand and turned, kissing it. "Your wish is my command, my Lady."

She smiled, "I like the sound of that." When the couple finished getting ready and pulling together their scant belongings, they partook of the southwest breakfast buffet downstairs, replete with chorizo eggs and potatoes, chilequiles, huevos rancheros, tortillas, fresh fruits, coffee and Mexican hot chocolate.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

They joined the others who were packing things from the living quarters. Jorge and Charles had started the process, already having an idea of what Darcy would need. Darcy went round to all the areas and added to the list. Then Lizzy and Darcy sorted through his work and art supplies that would be needed for the time being.

They both worked quickly and after a couple of hours Lizzy looked over at her beloved who was finishing his task of packing some canvasses together and wrapping them for travel. Eventually he looked up, intuiting she had an unspoken question. "What?"

Her hands lovingly caressed the package she just wrapped. "If this were me, I'd be crying. You're so calm and collected. Are there feelings of sadness under your inscrutable exterior, dearest?"

He left his area and came over to her, putting the package down and pulling her into an embrace. "I admit I am a little melancholy to go, but, after all, it is only a few hours away. Jorge is still here. Charles, Caroline and Catalina are all going to co-op this place, so it will be put to good use. Besides, I am going to be with you. And moving on to this phase of my life is certainly better than that dream I had about it."

Her eyes were shining up at him. "What do you mean?"

"I dreamed that this place- well the place in my head this represents- was consumed in your flames."

Her face dropped. "Oh dear. Well, your girlfriend is certainly not a pyromaniac."

"No, but she is hot! You are my little fireball." He teased, touching a finger to her shoulder and making a tsssssss! sound. "Fire woman."

She shook her head and chuckled, "Ah, that was an embarrassing night. I can't believe you remember."

"Remember? It was the closest I'd gotten to you after our 101 encounter and you were so damn cute singing The Cult. Charles begged me to stop playing that goth butt rock. So I started playing Interpol. About drove him out of his mind."

She tightened her embrace, "You are sentimental."

"About you? Sentimental doesn't even come close to covering it." Darcy dipped his head and they kissed tenderly and at length.

"What do you want me to-"

"Do you have poor timing on purpose?" Darcy barked at Jorge who had just 'barged in' to ask his brother a simple question.

Jorge covered his eyes in an exaggerated manner. "It's not that hard the way you two are all over each other, geez. I could just leave and you can pack this up yourself."

Lizzy laughed and pulled out of Darcy's embrace, resuming her work wrapping packages, "Koko, just ignore your brother. Remember that I promised you we could go riding anytime you want to visit. You are welcome at our house or The Farm or Aunt Phillips's any time. I will remember all the wonderful things you've done to help, and fully intend to get to know my almost brother in law."

"Almost? My cheap brother better put a ring on it if that's true."

"Well, I, ah…" Elizabeth sputtered when she realized her slip. She had meant it figuratively but Darcy was beaming at this new declaration. "I meant that because we are so close, Koko- Darcy and I are um, partners, I suppose, not married." she finished weakly.

"You know you are as good as married. I always wanted a sister. I accept your proposal, Lizzy." Koko hugged his new 'sister' while Darcy looked bemused. "I still say my brother needs to put a ring on your beautiful finger."

"Fine! Ruin this too, why don't you!" Darcy indignantly replied as he pulled a velvet bag out of his pocket and knelt. "Lizzy, this is for you. I will marry you whenever you want, or will stay with you until you kick me out of the house. I just want you to wear a ring symbolizing our love."Lizzy was laughing and crying at this point.

"Everybody, come in here!" Jorge yelled, then to Elizabeth and Darcy- "Wait! Wait! They'll want to see this!"

This caused Lizzy to laugh and cry even harder while Darcy remained awkwardly kneeling wondering whether to stay that way or get up and hug her. When she took his hand, he decided enough was enough and pulled her down into his arms. Taking her left hand, he pushed the moonstone eternity circlet onto her fourth finger. The Gardiners, Jane and Charles had all rushed in during this scene and they erupted in applause. Just when she started kissing him, Darcy's leg gave out and they wound up on a joyous heap on the wood floor. The group rushed to help them up and give hearty congratulations the sealing of their coupleship.

"Well, I'd say this calls for some champagne." Gardiner quipped.

"Mi amor you think of everything." The Gardiners retrieved a bottle of champagne and box of truffles. Everyone toasted Lizzy and Darcy's sealing of their coupleship. Soon after, the party returned to their respective packing duties until Lizzy's vehicle and the trailer were filled with the entirety of Darcy's necessities for the foreseeable future.

Goodbyes were made as Jorge fiercely hugged his brother, and initially it seemed he wouldn't let go. Finally, when he released Darcy, wiping tears from his eyes, Darcy and Elizabeth hugged the rest of the party as Jorge started talking about how he could now throw a big cool party since his brother would be gone. He continued making statements and went so far as to get on the phone to make calls. Darcy glared at his brother and shook his head, a small smile quirking on one side of his lips." Are people really going to come over and have a party tonight, Koko?"

"No, are you kidding me? I'm just asking a couple of friends to help me move my stuff around now that I've got the place to myself. I'm going to move into the master suite. I'm just buying them some takeout for their help." Jorge explained.

"But we're here to help." Lena insisted.

"We'll get it all done in no time with them here, too. You'll love my friends Martin Dashwood and Christopher Alvarado. They've been together since Martin was a nurse at the VA hospital. It was love at first sight. Besides, I've adopted you as my Tia and really want my new family to meet my closest friends if that's OK with you. I wish they could've met Lizzy too, but Christopher was sleeping off his firefighter shift, so we'll just have to go invade my new sister's privacy in Dona Maria sometime!"

Tia and Gardiner, Jane and Bingley readily complied with Jorge's plan. Martin, Christopher, Tia hit it off with the visitors and they all helped Jorge make quick work of the remnants of the move. Then they all made a merry party, listening to jazz and dining on an immense take out order of super deluxe nachos involving carne asada, refritos, green chile, tomatoes, onions, a variety of cheeses, crema, and copious amounts of guacamole.

PPPxoxNMxoxPPP

When Lizzy and Darcy arrived in Dona Maria, they did so in peace, but only because Lizzy invoked her mother's new found respect of all people named Darcy. As they drove down Old Highway _, she pulled onto the shoulder and insisted that Darcy put on the blindfold again.

"You mean I really have to do this?" He whined.

She warned, "Not if you don't want the surprise that comes at the end involving me."

"OK."First Darcy pouted, then became impatient and increasingly fidgety as the miles drug on with little for him to do besides wait. The last 10 minutes dragged as long as the past 5 hours. She helped him out of the car, then helped maneuver him to a spot where she then took off his blindfold. If he could guess, he'd suppose he was south of town, given their orientation to the Organs.* Before them was an authentic tin roofed, stucco, territorial style-farmhouse on a small property. It was historic, well kept, and looked to be just the sort of place they'd occupy as a couple. There was just one problem. "Uh, this looks nice but I have no idea why you blindfolded me for this."

"Look more closely at the mailbox." Their address was 1536 South Gardiner Farm road. "Did your grandparents own this?"

She nodded excitedly. "It belonged to my grandfather's parents. My Aunt Phil inherited it. She only sold the portion of the bigger farm where I grew up. This she kept and leased the land and the house.* When her renters moved out of the house at the end of the summer, I knew that it was the perfect place at the perfect time. Do you like it?"

"Of course! Are we going inside anytime soon?" Lizzy answered the affirmative and they refreshed themselves before going out to retrieve everything from the Truck. The place came partially furnished with an old but well styled nail head leather sofa, a lodge pole dinette set, and queen beds with antique frames in each of the 2 rooms.

However, Darcy's favorite room was the house's back porch which faced south and got lots of sun. The screen windows of the original house had long since been replaced by glass picture windows. This was going to be their studio. It was a little cramped but he reckoned they could store anything not in use in the adjacent guest studio which had its own bathroom, mini kitchenette, and other amenities.

After they finished Darcy realized how hungry he was. They ran over to the Burger Joint and got green chile cheese burgers then came home and crashed. It turned out the day had been far too eventful for either to do anything about their early morning intentions.

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*www dot organmountains dot org/multimedia/photos-of-the-monument/organ-mountains-photos/

* farm land can be leased out for others to farm, a practice done increasingly by small family farmers who lack the equipment, water rights, etc to do it themselves anymore. They occupy the land in some cases. In others, such as this one, they rent out the building on the land. Other occasions they will let the old building run to the ground as it may be very costly to restore something with 100 year old plumbing, etc.

* * *

hope the beginning of their HEA was as good for you as it was for them (wink wink)


	33. Chapter 33

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

 _Collect the moments_

MA content

Drip. Drip. Drip. His dream had turned into some form of annoying water torture. "Lizzy, what are you doing?"

She was standing over him, naked (which was nice) and wet (she looked amazing but the water dripping on his face was less than pleasant). "Waking you up so that we can both take a bath in our giant restoration tub".

"You know that I'll get you back for that?"

"Of course. I'm counting on it."With that she flicked her hair and turned on her heel toward the bathroom. The sight of her delectable wet rear, wiggling as she walked was too much and Darcy quickly jumped out of bed, grabbing her around the waist as both fell backward on the bed.

He immediately began assaulting her neck with lush, deep kisses. His free hand made its way to her pussy, fingers splayed as they stroked her folds, knuckles grazing her most sensitive spot.

Her hand found his hard member, grasping and caressing him from base to tip, in time with his own ministrations on her person. Both of his hands were now pleasuring her, fingers entering her core and teasing her pussy at the same time, filling her with a gaping pleasure. The wetter she got, the more Lizzy moaned and the more persistent became her attention to his cock until he could take it no more.

Darcy turned her over, pulling her with him so both were on their knees as he entered her from behind. His hands grasped her hips, a gesture which was like an aphrodisiac to Lizzy. She ground into him as he moved, first slowly teasing her, as she felt him filling her up with every stroke. The rhythm picked up slowly and his thrusts, more and more powerful, until Darcy held her hips firmly as he pounded into her, the movements making 'slap, slap, slap', as she cried out 'aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh'.

She was close. He could feel it. So was he, but Darcy restrained himself until she came. Her strong orgasm nearly did him in, but he had practiced restraint so long that he was able to continue to withhold his own release for a bit longer. As her orgasm waned, he began kissing and playing with her, gently. This initially prolonged the orgasm, then kept her in a state of arousal as he built her up again.

The second time she came, Darcy held her down as he kissed and licked at her cunt, keeping his mouth firmly in place. The more sensitive she became, the stronger the next orgasmic wave would be when it overtook her.

Finally, he entered her again, this time on top. Darcy kneaded her breasts while thrusting slowly in and out, his pelvis stimulating her oversensitive nether regions. He could feel Lizzy's hard orgasm and allowed himself to release, convulsing strongly as Lizzy pulled him into a kiss. "Oh my g-d. I don't know if I can move after that." She whispered in his ear.

"I told you I'd get you back." They lay there, staring into each others' eyes until both dropped off to sleep. Darcy was the first to awake, about 45 minutes later, and he busied himself remaking the bath until she padded into the room. Both immersed themselves into the hot water which was redolent with the smell of Champa Oil.

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Lizzy was suspicious. Darcy had been well occupied at home with projects galore- after moving everything in, he'd set bricks for a patio out back, painted a mural on the back yard's block fence, and put in a number of plants that could withstand planting this time of year (that had just been the first two weeks).

However, he had also been unusually quiet about his art. That was unlike the man she knew who couldn't stop- a man who always had several projects going. Things in his studio didn't seem to have been moved from day to day. He didn't share new projects with her either, like she'd been eager to do with him.

It was lovely having someone- her man- to share ideas, progress, and frustrations with- when she got home and before she left for work. Why wasn't he talking? Had he used it all up in his off based attempts to woo her?

Surely not. The thought made her smile. No. Something was up. Fitzwilliam Darcy didn't lie well.

She'd been about to confront him one particular Friday. She'd already sat finishing the stitches of some cuffs she'd been working on- she called them Volupta the Wonder Goddess Gauntlets, rife with hand made lace, hand cast Milagros (both her work), and some wonderful resin and glass beads made by artist friends. Huh, maybe she should be the first to exploit the power of the Gauntlets. Just as Elizabeth was contemplating the merits of wearing them home, and what else to wear- or not wear- as she greeted her man, he called. "Hey."

"Hey yourself."She half smiled.

"Meet me at 2_ Calle de Guadalupe."

"The old tortilla factory in Mesilla? Why?" She frowned at his secretiveness.

"Stop asking so many questions and come out here when you're done." She could tell by his tone that he would brook no opposition.

"Alright, fine." She couldn't help but feel self righteously flippant and let it show in her tone.

Several minutes later, she knocked on the heavy wooden door and tapped her foot impatiently, wondering why he didn't tell her anything else. She didn't like being kept in the dark. Suddenly the door opened and….

* * *

An Accomplished Woman

"Surprise!" He said it in a way that let her know he was inwardly excited but characteristically maintaining his outward reserve. They greeted each other with a kiss and cheers erupted behind them.

Only then did Lizzy notice, there in the old tortilla factory, stood Jane, Charles, Koko, Mercedes Lucas, Aunt Phil and Uncle D, Maeve, Maya, and a other acquaintances and people unknown to Elizabeth. The space was of a size where a variety of stalls exhibited a variety of local wares, mostly ceramics, jewelry, clothing, visual art, but also select antiques and items which spoke to the unique Dona Maria culture such as an old altar piece, a square dance dress, an ancient saddle.

It was too much to take in at once. Lizzy's eyes swept over the scene, returning to her notice of the people. Everyone made some comment or other, then returned to their tasks, obviously intent on their preparations for a show. Or, possibly, because her boyfriend had already warned them to leave them alone. He could be intimidating and private that way.

It couldn't matter at the moment. She was too enthralled with the space. "I didn't know this place became a gallery."

He smiled with evident self satisfaction. "That's because it wasn't."

She pulled away, eyes narrowing at him, "Fitzwilliam Darcy, what do you have to do with this?"

He only grinned mysteriously. "Come," He took her hand and pulled her over to an area where Maeve was supervising a sweaty and grumpy Jane, who kept adjusting various dressforms, first one up, then another down, then the next was adjusted bigger, which was no small feat as each form wore various costumes from last season.

"Its ODC!"

Full bodied laughter escaped from Maeve, "He insisted. He wouldn't allow me- Allow! ME!? To put costumes on exhibit unless these were included. Sentimental, isn't he?"

His lip twitched.

Koko, who was putting up an installation nearby, piped in, "Who? My brother? He's practically dead, he's so stoic and boring."

"Men in love do unusual things, you know, like build the Taj Mahal, write sonnets that live forever, open a co-op with some friends to be near his lover, conspire with those friends to put his lover's work in the first exhibit." replied Maeve.

How could she have been so incredibly dense? She then saw an area where her Mourning Veil piece was displayed. Had she really not noticed that some of her work was missing? "What? How? When did you….?"

"I just removed it this morning with Jane's help. While you were in class." Darcy answered.

"Can I talk to you? In private?" She couldn't help but sound demanding.

Everyone, led by Koko, childishly responded "Ooooooooooooh!"

They went outside and sat in the Gazebo. "Darling, darling man. I love what you did, but I don't want to be in a show because I'm banging one of the owners of the gallery. Not to mention, I haven't made any arrangements for this."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, "You must know that everything has been considered, but, if you're insistent, this is a hell of a situation."

"Just take my stuff out and it will be fine."

"I can't." He looked at the ground and shook his head.

"Sure you can." She nudged him slightly.

"All I did was pick up things for the co-op. I didn't vote your work in." His expression was defiant but honest.

"You didn't vote for me? I knew it! I knew you really didn't support my work. How could I have been so-" she was cut off

"Have you lost your mind, woman?" He had interrupted her then silenced her with a deep kiss. He released Lizzy only when she was breathless.

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She looked at him dazed as he sighed heavily and explained he proposed the cooperative gallery last year and had gone in with the Lucases, the University and a variety of established and new artists and merchants. The twelve contributed in different ways, including Aunt Phil, who helped them get a community grant. When the first exhibit was being discussed, the group all listed their own selections and cast votes, last spring.

Darcy was having second thoughts, having been soundly rejected by Lizzy that winter, and had told them he didn't know if he wanted to stay in the project. He didn't put any names in, only backing the effort until they could find someone else suitable to replace him in presence and investment. That person never materialized, fortuitously enough, as it turned out, since he found himself exactly where he wanted to be. Here, in Dona Maria of all places, with his love.

He took her hand. "I'm sorry if your feelings are hurt that I didn't vote for you. I just helped get this space started and then surreptitiously removed your work on their orders this morning. If you will recall the juried exhibit you were in mentioned opportunity for another exhibit.

You signed the consent for that before I had anything to do with this. You're the one who made it on your own merits. You still have to go and sign paperwork with the board and make arrangements for commissions. That's all you. But, if you still don't want to be in it because of my involvement, I'll understand."

She held his face and looked into his eyes intently, "It seems I'm destined to work with or near you, Mr. Darcy."

He embraced her, whispering, "I prefer that you work on me, Ms. Bennet."

"As long as you return the favor, my love." She teased back, her soft breath tickling his ear.

"Are you ready to go home, yet?" He asked.

Just then, she was truly hit with the simultaneous enormity and mundanity of the situation. Here she was, with him, and they were going home.

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If this revelation weren't enough, they were faced with an inconvenient synchronicity a couple of minutes after she started her car. "I was hoping to ask you this when we got home, but, can I get a jump?"

"Ugh, you've got to be kidding me. Don't you think my car is a little small for that?" Lizzy prodded.

"Hey, don't sound so excited. I thought you liked that swirly thing I did. I promise there's more where that came from. But I'm not talking about that kind of jump- yet. I went to move my car closer to the gallery and it wouldn't start." Elizabeth laughed as she turned the car around and headed back near the plaza to get her beloved' s engine going.

Their attempts were met with failure, at least failure of the automotive variety. "I guess I'm going to have to get it towed. Damn!" They made the requisite call. While waiting they found plenty of pleasurable ways to occupy their time, most of which involved fogging up the windows of her Toyota.

The only problem with this arrangement was its effect at blocking their view, and they received quite a shock when the tow truck driver rapped on the window. Both hastily repaired their appearance and Darcy stepped outside to meet the man. Once the tow was arranged, he returned to the passenger seat and she put on Iggy Pop. He sang along to what had to be the most appropriately timed song.

As he la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la'd, Lizzy could have sworn another voice joined in. It wasn't hers, it didn't come from her less than high tech car speakers. It felt like it was in the car, and bells accompanied the melodic woman's voice. Then at the end of the song Iggy announced: Aphrodite Darcy. everybody, give her a hand. Will chuckled as Elizabeth's eyes bulged.

"That did not just happen." She hit the back button and played the end yet again, but the song ended in the way it always had.

She kept hitting the back button trying to find that part of the song, futilely, until Darcy stilled her hand. "It's no use. The Lady has visited us already and will not grace us with her presence again tonight. Better just enjoy the ride," he suggested, fingering the pendant of his mother in profile.

She shook her head, as if to clear the fog, as if that would do anything after apparently hearing the ghost of his mother sing with Iggy Pop.

She now realized what he meant. Sure, she'd mentally understood it, accepted it.

But it wasn't real until that moment and it broke open yet another insight: Just like weeks ago when she initiated her plan to reunite with him: He was the passenger, along for the ride. Not only did she hold the keys, they were bequeathed to her by a woman worthy of being pleased. And that was profoundly pleasing to her.

Not The End, Just the Beginning of their HEA

* * *

Well, kids, we are almost done with this little fanfic. The epilogue and then we are through. Send me any requests in your comments and I *might* be persuaded to write additional outtakes or epilogues.


	34. Chapter 34

Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

* * *

Epilogue: 10 years later

The church parlor was in the disarray typical of a wedding. However, the hysterical woman sitting at the vanity was not the bride, but the mother of the groom. Well, one of the grooms. "You children are going to be the end of my poor nerves! Young people these days. Mark my words Lizzy, if you'd not given away your milk for free the cow would have married you!"

Caught between stifling a laugh and being offended, her second eldest asked, "What does that even mean, mother?"

"Don't you take that tone with me!" Kitty and Mary rolled their eyes, thinking their mother couldn't see. They were wrong. "And don't give me those looks, either of you! Katherine, 2 years spent in the graduate school of Agriculture meeting all kinds of eligible men and what do you have to show for it?"

"Mother! Kitty is barely 25! Give her some time!" Mary scolded.

"Time, you said? Young lady, I would have supposed that you'd had enough time to figure out that Collins is quite the catch. He will suit admirably to fill my shoes. I am getting so weary from running the 4-H club these many years! How I long for a rest! If you just said yes to his proposal, Mary." Francesca fanned herself melodramatically.

Mary huffed, "I won't be getting married to my boyfriend so you go ahead and can pass the torch for the club, mother. Besides, you know I've been happy to help you. Need I remind you that I bore you your first TWO grandsons AT ONCE? What am I? Chopped liver?"

Francine stopped fanning herself and began preening in the mirror. "Chopped liver, indeed! Oh, that reminds me, did everyone bring the food for the reception?"

"Yes, mother."

"What a steady young woman you are, Jane, and even with your handicaps you've managed to marry and you've given me three granddaughters! I hope they don't have your afflictions!"

Lizzy got into the fray, "Mother! First of all my nieces are perfect regardless of their ability, size, orientation, or gender. Hell, they could dye their hair the most hideous shade of orange or become preppies and they will still be perfect. Secondly, the car accident injuries that started Jane's fibromyalgia are not genetic!"

"Be that as it may, Lizzy, you don't have your sister's challenges. You should be pregnant by now, is that why you've put on weight?"

"No, it's all that free milk from the cow!" Lizzy's sisters laughed while their mother simply looked confused. She was spared explaining things when she heard their cue. "Never mind, mother. We're on."

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The 4 Bennet bridesmaids took their places in the foyer and followed the two best men. The star shaped brick walled sanctuary with wood beams, red carpet and matching pews was accented with western décor such as wagon wheels, wrought iron candelabras, and wildflowers wrapped in antiqued lace and leather strips.

The bridesmaids wore breezy, vintage prairie dresses while the groomsmen and grooms wore jeans, boots, and cowboy hats that also evoked the bygone west era. The little flower girls and ring bearers were mini versions in tiny cowboy hats and boots, the girls with ringlets and braids recalling the "Little House" girls.

The ceremony represented Lydon and his bridegroom Mitchell's taste for the country, as they had also hired a folk band with a fiddle, guitar and vocalist to perform folksy versions of the traditional wedding songs. The band also performed a country version of 'How wonderful life is' in which Mrs Bennet cried almost as loudly as the vocalist sang. In the end it was a toss-up concerning who had the better pipes.

It was a short service and everyone soon gathered at the Farm for an old fashioned chuckwagon feast that was catered by one of the family's friends who moonlighted in this style of catering. Everything except the wedding cake and coleslaw was cooked on an open fire- some with hand made cast iron cookware -from a pit roasted hog, to beans, cornbread, fruit compote and even some mac and cheese for the kids.

The Phillips got out the old family recipe and had enlisted half a dozen friends with ice cream freezers to make a rainbow of homemade strawberry, peach, French vanilla, pistachio, mixed berry, and champagne/grape ice creams and sorbets which completed the feast.

The band had added a stand up base and percussion and had set up so the group could dance on the concrete slab in front of the Bennet's house. People mingled on the lawn, sat at picnic tables and wandered in the orchard under the setting sun.

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After Elizabeth was finally done with her final bridesmaid duty ( and a top secret one at that) her man found her and grabbed her waist, pulling her onto the 'dancefloor' for a country waltz to a version of 'Just Like You Said It Would Be.' "Where have you been, sexy cowgirl?"

"I can't tell you or I'd have to kill you." Her eyes sparkled and he knew her top secret mission likely involved putting the finishing touches on cans on the back of the getaway car. That would have been an understatement. Her secret mission involved a rainbow of cans using fantas, 7 up, coke and blue sky soda brands for that effect. He would soon see what she'd been up to.

But, Darcy was more interested for the moment in the way he could see most of her assets as he gazed down. She was more than fine with his obvious lack of eye contact. It boded well for later in the evening.

"Koko pulled it off." She told him.

"What exactly did he pull off?" Darcy asked. "Your family got most of this together, with the exception of M_'s extensive decorating skills."

"Koko finally got you to wear honest to goodness shit kickers as opposed to those urban cowboy excuses for boots." Lizzy's eyes sparkled.

He looked a her suggestively, "You're lucky that Gunne Sax makes it so easy for me to stare at your breasts because otherwise I would hold out on you for such a statement."

She made an exaggerated movement so that more of said assets were revealed. "So that's how I bend you to my will? Wearing low cut vintage dresses?"

"It's definitely a good look," he said, not making eye contact.

"I can feel how much you like it!" She pressed against him.

"That's just the beginning." He stopped their dance, pulling her close and rasping in her ear, "Lizzy, I so want to leave."

She grasped his collar, and said authoritatively, " . Sorry, but we gotta wait till they throw the bouquet and drive into the night." 

* * *

-MA alert-

"Pleeeeease?" He knew just how to speak into her ear to elicit excessive moisture in certain parts of her body.

"I have a better idea." She took his hand and they disappeared into the house. "Just something to tide you over."

"You mean we finally get to be naughty in the room where you grew up?" She didn't say a word, pulling him through the doorway of her old bedroom and pushing him onto the bed. The lights were off and the room was quite dim at twilight. They could still hear music playing through the window.

She buttoned down his fly and proceeded to take his length into her lush mouth, consuming him over and over until he was about to spend. He groaned as she released him from her lips, and the tone of his rumbling voice changed when he was firmly ensconced within her slick depths.

Grasping her ass, he lifted them both and heaved her against the wall, his mouth consuming hers as his cock teased her with its repetitive slow withdrawal until his tip teased her g spot. Then he would slam into her, filling her to the hilt. Over and over his instrument played her until she cried out. He released soon after and collapsed taking them backward onto her old bed.

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When they caught their breath, Darcy and Elizabeth snuck into the adjacent bathroom and made themselves presentable, laughing conspiratorially while they primped. Soon, they heard a thump, thump, thump against the back of the bathroom wall. The thumping was hard enough to shake the Thomas Kinkaid pictures Francesca had hung in there.

"Um, isn't that Jane's old room? Isn't it sacrilegious or something for them to have sex in her childhood bedroom when she's pregnant?" Darcy asked.

"Don't be ridiculous….. Damn," she cursed as the thumping became more frequent and shook the pictures more violently. "On second thought, mother would have hysterics if she knew her beloved pictures were under threat from her daughter's 'indecency'. But I'm not telling. You?"

Darcy looked frightened, "No way. I don't want to suddenly become the favorite son in law if she disowns Charles for defiling her daughter's bedroom and breaking her Kinkaids!"

"Well, I guess we'll just have to find some other way to pass the time. The guests will probably keep dancing for another couple of songs, and then they plan to set off fireworks before the finale when they throw the bouquet and leave. Let's get a good spot." The lovers wended their way up the back spiral staircase and to the veranda.

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Lizzy turned and was about to close the door when the loud 'clomp, clomp, clomp' of little feet could be heard up the back staircase. "Hey! You took our spot! No fair, Uncle Darcy!" The two red headed boys couldn't be any cuter as the sported identically 'menacing' glares.

"Sorry pals. Finders keepers." He grinned.

"That's not fay-er!" One of the 5 year olds stomped.

"Just kidding, there is room for all of us. Look, you can sit up here and we will hold you." He pulled them up together, ensconcing them both safely in his strong arms.

Lizzy couldn't believe her eyes. "Will! Collins will kill you if he sees them balancing on the veranda rail, even if the roof is right in front of them."

"Not up there. Geez! I'm not totally incompetent with kids. Look." He pointed and she followed the line of sight.

The veranda had an extension on the roof, including a porch swing, a perfect venue from which to gaze out at the southern and the famous mountains to the east. "When did you get time to make this?"

"I've had plenty of time- you've been in the studio with your sister for a few days and the last time you were up here was that time..." Her boyfriend had that impish look in his eye...

"Yes!" Lizzy interupted brightly, "I recall the other night we were up here um, stargazing."

" That sounds like fun, why didn't you let us go stargazing?" asked little Rufus, the younger twin.

" Because that was past your bedtime." Darcy answered quickly, while Lizzy just quirked an eyebrow, mouthing 'you started it.' Darcy mouthed back, I'll show you what I'll start..."

Not 30 seconds had passed before Arlo pleaded his auntie to quit kissing so they could swing and watch fireworks. Auntie Lizzy and Uncle Will obliged little Rufus and Arlo, placing them securely in swings. Soon, the dusk ended and fireworks lit up the sky but it had not been soon enough for the dozing cherubs. By the time the fireworks subsided the pair had been installed on the upstairs study's hideaway bed.

Jane's 8 year old, Eliza, a replica of her namesake, was still going strong, along with Luke, Charlotte and Richard's 9 year old. Eliza's two siblings, 6 year old Maggie and 4 year old Anna were crashed in Kitty's old room, which housed shelves of collectible toy horses.

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Lydon and his new husband were seen off by what remained of the party, sans sleeping children. They tearfully hugged every family member and left amidst the clatter of colorful cans.

"You did that, didn't you Lizzy? Very clever. "Her father remarked. She could tell it was his feeble attempt to hide the tears shed because his boy had grown up and found a soul mate, no longer to be under his father's care, but under the care of his husband.

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The adults had caught their second wind and were visiting as they chipped in to clear away the food and litter. Everyone was thankful the rental company would clear away the tables in the morning. Just as Lizzy and Jane were returning to the house, discussing the merits of Jane adding vintage cowboy gear to her Etsy store, they were interrupted their mother's hysterics.

Everyone hurriend to the kitchen to see why Francesca was in such hysterics. They found out soon enough. Kitty was holding a bin that smelled of the contents of her stomach and wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Mother! Calm down! I'm not sick! I'm just pregnant!"

"Another of my daughters who's giving the milk for free! Oh, Mr Bennet, what will become of our girls!?"

It's OK. Kitty announced," I'm married. David Lucas and I eloped when we were in Vegas with the school. You know, the week of the Rodeo. He moved into my apartment a month ago."

"What! Oh! Mr Bennet! Oh!" The shock of not being able to see her youngest in a wedding gown was too much. And that she was pregnant at the hands of the son of her frenemy, Mercedes. Francesca fainted dead away.

It was a good thing that Woody, the chuckwagon caterer, was still shutting down. Woody, an EMT in his day job, hurried over and checked her vitals, proclaiming that she would be fine and the worst she suffered was a bruise from the fall.

Nothing else would please Francesca Bennet but to have a grand reception/ shower for her daughter. Her husband, however, put a moratorium on all lace, flowers, balloons and party games for at least eight weeks. Which gave her plenty of time to plan a lavish event at the Old Town Historic Hotel.

She may never understand Jane's condition, or Lizzy and Darcy's independent commitment which bore much fruit, all of it artistic. Lizzy became a highly sought after sartorial artist as she called herself, employing apprentices to help make her bespoke garments.

Even though Francine didn't understand her second eldest's career, she came to accept it, especially the more well known she became.

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For the most part, Lizzy's fear never came to pass: she was mostly known in her own right, and only linked to her partner when they were photographed at events together and it made the news. It may have helped that Lizzy made a point of keeping an open demeanor with the first reporter who wrote about the up and coming textile artist. The journalist, who wrote about Lizzy's opening at _ Gallery in Soho was charmed by the story Lizzy told and was determined to take the artist on her own merit and included some of Lizzy's anecdotes about the normally taciturn Darcy. The story set the precedent for any stories to come. Lizzy had a way of telling just the right amount to make an interesting story for the magazine but little enough to keep their private lives just that.

Darcy continued to be a prominent visionary artist, although his preferred media would change from time to time- stained glass and giant stone were just 2 of his 'phases.'

The couple was proud of their prodigious work and satisfied with their lives where they enjoyed spoiling their nieces and nephews, filling in for moms and dads, and having plenty of time for themselves as a family- just the 2 of them- and their 2 rescue dogs. Lizzy had always wanted to be an auntie, teaching her nieces and nephews to behave very ill and having great fun in the process.

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Well, Francine's most vexing, second eldest daughter got her wish.

Francine would never understand why Mary would end up bearing Collins a total of eight children and yet they would never marry. (she did end up 'giving the club' to Mary after child 4, in exchange for watching the grandbabies and their extensive garden).

Nor could she ever completely forgive Kitty that Mercedes was now a relation- although the lavish reception and subsequent three grandchildren helped. No, Out of all of her children Francesca thought that they would all be so happy if they would just settle down traditionally like Lydon and his husband. The couple, both prominent firemen on the city's force, had a daughter and son by separate surrogates. They had bought back some of the old Gardiner farmland and had settled just a quarter mile down the dirt road.

The women who were surrogates, and their eventual families, were also included in Bennet family. Francesca thought them paragons, greatly approving of their farming and ranching lineages, both women working in their family's operations.

She would never understand children these days but at least Mary would get the farm when she died, and Lydon also owned a bit of the old family farm. Oh! What nerves she got thinking of it.

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None of this mattered to her children, their spouses or her children's children. They all loved each other in their own imperfect ways, the way that families do when they repeat cycles and stories that resonate through generations until some are mythology and others pathology. Perhaps those stories, those cycles, were one and the same.

Lizzy and Darcy could agree that was probably the case. The woman in white knew this to be so.

* * *

Well we have come to the end of my fanfic. I am quite set on having alternative types of families for ODC and their family, so if anyone is unhappy that Lizzy and Darcy don't marry and have kids- feel free to imagine they do. I wanted to show that HEA can look different than marriage and kids and hope that you still found it satisfactory. If you want more, let me know, and I will do out takes and/or further epilogues at your request.

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End file.
